


Emerging Reveries

by Bbaegi



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Elves, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bbaegi/pseuds/Bbaegi
Summary: For the Crown he served, Chanyeol threw himself into the home of the enemy. Amidst distrust, pursuits, and the fear of invasion wrecking his Kingdom, he found only one person willing to hear him.





	1. Chapter 1

The echo of Chanyeol’s breathing was acute in his ears as the roots of a tree slithered around his ankle and wrenched him down. He toppled to the ground for two saturated breaths, sinking into a lump of leaves that engulfed him before prying his way out of the grave-like weight and emerging.

 

He stumbled forward as he took his first stride and then leaped amongst the ochre of bushes.

 

"Halt!" a voice called behind him and Chanyeol parted branches on his path with quick strikes of his hands as he ran, looking over his shoulder. Four of them were still behind him. They were stronger than Chanyeol had expected, they’d been chasing him since they’d noticed Chanyeol in a corner of Bellish, the most populated area of the Kingdom. He looked ahead of himself again and pushed on his legs. He could see the imposing glassiness of the castle not too far from him.

 

He only had to reach close enough to it. Just close enough. An arrow screeched as it flew by his ear and Chanyeol groaned, bending his knees to shorten his body and starting to zigzag amongst the trees. A gnome appeared in front of him, dressed in jewelry from head to toe, its strident gasp not louder than Chanyeol’s heartbeat. He ran right into the creature, pushing him forward and then down, jumping over its large body to continue his escape.

 

A glance over his shoulder was enough to catch a glimpse of one of the guards running right into the gnome, its body devoured by frolicsome leaves and grass, hidden until the guard tripped on it and slammed into the ground. 

 

Before he could rejoice at that small victory over haughty elves dressed in haughtier, brighter garments of burnt orange and smily yellow, Chanyeol felt an arrow grazing his arm, cutting through the black of his blouse. One hand holding onto the wound that should’ve been insignificant but that froze his entire arm, Chanyeol forced his legs to continue zigzagging between trees, bushes, and creatures. In a kaleidoscopic world of brightness and color, it wasn’t difficult to locate the only being shrouded in black and brown.

 

He could see the sun reflecting off the castle’s sparkling surface. An arrow pulsed into the ground when it planted right next to his foot, he left it behind as he continued his run. A whizzing arrow grazing his hip, another one breezing by the top of his head, another, another, a deluge. He could see the crystalline glow of the walls, could feel their harshness on eyes that weren’t used to so much life. He sprinted right into a gathering of pixies spiraling in the air and giggling, swatting their tiny wings and their frightened screams away. He was close, so close.

 

There was too much Glamour in the air. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, could smell it. Its saccharine aroma made him dizzy, made the grassy ground muddy as he looked down to where he planted his feet, keeping his arms close by his sides to avoid anyone, anything grabbing them. He couldn’t take this stench, couldn’t take the amount of power permeating all around him. He couldn’t take it, not in this state. 

 

But he had to. Chanyeol had to and so, when he saw elves galloping towards him, sharp features scrunched and even sharper wooden swords brandished, he didn’t summon his own weapon. He stopped running and then threw himself on the ground, closing his eyes and rolling for a while before landing on his back, chest heaving and lips parted in an attempt to suck in more air, in an attempt to fight back the grin threatening to break out on his face.

 

He was close enough.

 

"For Glamour’s sake, this damned Cinerusian made us run through the entire damned forest," one of the guards cursed, broken breath and enraged voice.

 

Chanyeol took a deeper breath in, reminding himself not to say anything as he rolled to his side in a display of pain and defeat.

 

"We have to bring him into the castle," another elf said, calm and collected. One that had headed towards Chanyeol, not ran after Chanyeol.

 

"Into the castle," another voice repeated, drawled out and hesitating.

 

"This scum has no place in our castle," the same first disdainful voice protested and Chanyeol’s eyes snapped open.

 

"Still got enough breath to curse me after running all the way from Bellish to the castle to catch me?" he couldn’t help but mock the elf whose purple eyes widened and then narrowed.

 

A step and his foot dug into Chanyeol’s stomach in an unforgiving strike. Chanyeol had lived through worst pain, even if his body was weakened at the moment, but he still curled into himself and moaned a bit too lowly for someone who should be exhausted and in pain. The guard bought it and snickered, a few others joining in.

 

"It’s protocol. The closest cells are in the castle."

 

"Allow me to neutralize his ability to speak then," the unpleasantly recognizable first guard said and the next thing Chanyeol felt was a weight crashing against his head and crumbling his consciousness down.

 

His eyes closed of their own will this time, his body unraveling, but there was no sense of panic in Chanyeol as he sunk into slumber, only satisfaction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Chanyeol awakened, his back was stiff and his head was pounding. It shouldn’t be that way.

 

He opened his eyes, closed them, blinked a few more times, and then the world capsized as he pushed himself up and turned around to sit on the bench he’d been lying on. His feet touched the ground but it felt like Chanyeol was levitating in the sky as he dug his elbows into his thighs and held his head between his head, the fabric of his gloves as harsh as fermented Goblin Blood against his temples.

 

He was nauseous. He swallowed down, once, twice, thrice, felt even more nauseous and parted his lips to gulp in thick lumps of air. Not thick. It didn’t feel thick anymore. He couldn’t feel the air anymore, its scent or its vibrance with Glamour. He looked around, snorted. Even their cells were colorful, the walls a royal blue but the bars caging Chanyeol into this tiny room a sanguine red. 

 

This was a Cancelling Cell. It must be. He couldn’t feel Glamour in the air but he couldn’t feel his own flowing through his veins either. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall. He had been trained for this. One hand touched the other, trailing over a finger, feeling a slight protuberance under his glove. It should play in his favor. He had aimed for this. He would get out of this, if he gathered enough strength. When he gathered enough strength.

 

His head lolled to the side and he drifted back into the void.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

His lips ripped into a loud gasp that made his lungs feel even narrower.

 

He spat out the water in his mouth, the discomfort in his nose tightened by the cackles of the two elves standing in front of him. One of them was holding onto a now empty bucket, the other pointing a knife at Chanyeol. Wooden again. Chanyeol disliked the fact that this people had adjusted to its own weaknesses almost successfully.

 

"Looks like he’s awake now," one of them said, a sly slur.

 

"Are you awake?" the other asked Chanyeol, patting the top of his head with the flat of his blade.

 

Chanyeol’s hands weren’t tied, neither literally nor figuratively, but he didn’t move, didn’t do anything but glare at the guard until he took a step back, features stretched into a vicious grin, the green tone of his skin amplifying the nausea still prominent in Chanyeol’s stomach.

 

He shook his head and raised a hand, pleased when the two elves immediately stepped back. He ran his hand through his hair to free his eyes and forehead of the bangs dripping over his skin. At least it wasn’t acid or poisoned water that they’d thrown at his face.

 

"I am awake, obviously," Chanyeol said, gesturing to his face.

 

They both frowned at the same time and Chanyeol dropped his hand on his lap, slumping back against the wall. He felt just a little better. Not enough yet. He had to gather more strength. The chase to the castle had worn him out.

 

One of the guards stepped towards him and Chanyeol felt the warmth of the blade against his throat before he could see him brandish the weapon. A fast warrior, not a threat but a pleasant adversary if it ever came down to it.

 

The snark was gone from the elves’ faces and Chanyeol, immobile, carefully studied them, trying to figure out their next moves. They wouldn’t kill him, they couldn’t kill him but they could harm him and even if Chanyeol would survive, he’d rather not waste energy and strength. He needed it. He needed to complete his quest.

 

The elf that wasn’t holding a knife against Chanyeol’s neck cleared his throat, straightened his back, looked into Chanyeol’s eyes with no fear, and spoke.

 

"What are you?" he asked and it was obvious but Chanyeol knew how Rufus Aureusians were. Always kind, polite, merciful, just, and so very clingy to the concept of laws and protocols. Although the guards he had encountered until now were anything but kind and polite to him, he supposed he could see everything else.

 

"A knight under the servitude of King Song Kijeong, Ruler of Cinereus," he presented himself with no hesitation, voice clear and tone grave under the weight of the pride it carried.

 

The knife was pressed harder against his skin, the guard’s nostrils flaring in distaste. Chanyeol curled his hands into fists and dug his knuckles into his thighs. This wasn’t the right moment. No matter how strong the urge to punish whoever showed disrespect to his King, this wasn’t the moment.

 

"Is your presence in Rufus Aureus part of a scheme and an attack from Cinereus?" the elf asked and Chanyeol forced himself not to move, not to let even a single facial feature twist.

 

This was ridiculous. The fact that they’d question the enemy in such a foolish way, as if the bearer of an attack would confess to it. Only a traitor of the Crown would do such thing. Chanyeol swallowed down, felt his nails digging into his palms, felt the blade digging further into his neck. He loosened his hands. He shouldn’t damage his gloves.

 

"No, it isn’t," was the truth he confessed to the guards.

 

They stared at him for a moment, silent. He stared back, baring his gaze to them.

 

"Are you aware that by stepping into our land, you are dishonoring the Treaty of Bellish that wove peace between the Kingdoms of Rufus Aureus and Cinereus thousands of Suns ago, and that states that the border between our Kingdoms will not be breached unless an invitation to do so is issued by a Kingdom to the other?"

 

It was a monotone but it had ups and downs, a stale voice that spoke of raging wars and spilled blood, of shuddery peace and bricked tension. Chanyeol did not avert his gaze from the elf’s.

 

"Yes," he replied, lone word as sharp as the blade held against his life.

 

"Are you aware that through your presence in this land, you are betraying our Queen Byun Byeolee, Ruler of Rufus Aureus?" the other elf asked, eyes shifting in a rainbow of pastel colors. The Eye of the Truth. Chanyeol didn’t know guard’s Glamour worked in Canceling Cells but he had nothing to worry about, no lies to be detected.

 

"Yes," he repeated, analyzing the guard. Short breath, a wonky stance, hands fisted by his side. He figured they were trained to use their Glamour despite the Cancelling spell but even if they were stronger than Chanyeol in that aspect, it was still taking a toll on the elf.

 

"Are you aware that through your presence in this land, you are betraying King Kim Kijeong, Ruler of Cinereus?" the elf asked again.

 

This time, it took Chanyeol a moment to answer. "Yes," he said, the tightness in his jaw crushing his voice.

 

The green-skinned guard stepped back, freeing Chanyeol from the pressure of his weapon. Chanyeol breathed evenly, no shift in his slumped stance.

 

"What are you here for?" he asked, swirling his fingers once to fade his knife.

 

"I need to talk to the Queen," Chanyeol answered, assurance and urgency stiffening his voice. "It’s an urgent matter, of utmost importance."

 

The guards looked at each other and then burst into a fit of snickers. Chanyeol clenched his teeth and ignored the tickle in his fingers, the urge to summon his sword and slice through these soft-looking elves’ throat. They were weak. Chanyeol was weakened. He did nothing, waiting for them to stop even if the expression they gave him once the laughter petered out was even more scornful.

 

"We’re going to keep you and your ridiculous demands in this cell until further notice," the elf whose eyes were now of an even emerald color said. Without further ado, they both stepped out of the cell and locked it again with a twirl of their fingers.

 

Chanyeol watched them walk away, stood up, paced around the cell for a moment, and then dropped back down on the obnoxious yellow of the bench. 

 

He had tried. They left him no choice and couldn’t blame him.

 

He laid down and pushed himself into slumber.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol opened his eyes and the deep breath he took in didn’t trigger any kind of nausea or dizziness inside of him.

 

He blinked the blurriness away, turned his head towards the bars, and with no surprise, he noted that he was alone. Not a single shadow, not a single sound even if he had no doubt this place was filled with prisoners and guards. 

 

Pushing himself to sit up, he winced at the discomfort in his right hand. It was getting harder to ignore the burn hidden under his glove. He held his pained hand with his healthy one and stared at the bars. They weren’t really bars, now that Chanyeol looked at them carefully, but roots bulging out of the ground, swirled together into thick individual sticks. That would make things easier for him.

 

He didn’t know for how long he’d been here, for how long he’d been in slumber but he could feel that his body had adjusted to the Cancellation Spell caging him and with a determined impulse, he stood up. Warily, he stepped towards the bars and stretched his bad hand out, pressing a finger against one of the veiny sticks and then curling both of his hands around it when nothing happened. They had no reason to make these bars dangerous to the touch if they believed it impossible for anyone to get out of their cell with no supervision.

 

He tried his best to look outside and once he was sure that there was no guards in his restrained sightline, he stepped away from the bars and closed his eyes. His right hand pulsed with a sear when he tightened his fists and sought for a cold spark of magic deep inside of him. He felt the spell in the cell thickening in reaction, trying to repress and cancel out his Glamour. Chanyeol sunk his teeth into his lower lip, biting hard as he felt his hands shaking in retaliation, pain sizzling in his veins as he forced, and forced, and forced, and then stopped with a low grunt. He took a deep breath in, chest heaving, every beat of his heart reverberating in his skull.

 

His hands were empty. He brought one up to wipe at the sweat on his forehead, pushing long strands of hair out of his sight. He clenched his hands again and looked up to the ceiling. He could do this. He was trained for this. He _had_ to do this. For his King, for his land.

 

He closed his eyes, bit down on his lip, and called for his Glamour again. He shouldn’t be able to do this, Rufus Aurusians were good at spells and nobody should be able to break through their Cancelling Cells alive. But Chanyeol would do it. Because he was trained. Because as much as this cell weakened him, he was weakening it too.

 

It felt like his insides were twisting, his veins bursting under his skin, the length of his hair a burden for the first time, the strands sticking to the base of his spine, down his neck weighing down on him. He tasted blood in his mouth and that was the only indication of his lip bursting under his teeth, his entire body numb to everything but the dig into his core, the clawing rip in his heart. 

 

His head snapped backwards, his back twisting painfully for the duration of a few stuttered breaths, before he slumped forward again. The clunk of his sword against the ground was but a whisper.

 

Putting all his weight down on his weapon, Chanyeol took a moment to catch his breath and realize. He had broken through the Cancellation Spell. Just enough to summon his sword, but he had still done it. And it left his body even more worn out than when he had been thrown into this cell.

 

He straightened his back again, brought his left hand up to wipe his lip with the back of it, catching a glimpse of icy blue on the black of his glove before his hand dropped again and he heaved the other up instead. The frigid glow of his blade twinkled at him despite the lack of sunlight in the cell and Chanyeol trailed his gaze over its length, stopping at the precise demarkation between wintry Glamour and the washed out shine of the iron forming the tip of his sword. He swallowed and brought his other hand up to the one holding the weapon. He felt the faint bulge under his glove, around his finger, felt the bite eating at his skin. He had never thought that he’d be grateful for it but without it, it would’ve probably taken much longer to summon his sword.

 

For the first time, he felt the wounds on his shoulder and hip, cuts from the arrows that had grazed him in the chase with guards on his way to the castle. That was the only indication Chanyeol needed to figure out he had used the last of his Glamour and only had his sword to rely on until he rested a little more.

 

Biting the pain down, he stepped towards the bars of his cell, brandished his sword, and then lowered it until the iron tip was pressed against one of the sticks. He watched as the red of the bark instantly darkened, rotting into a sickly brown only a short moment later. When the bar came alive and bended away in panic to pry itself away from the iron, Chanyeol grinned and watched it dig into the other bars and bend them along. He repeated the action on a few more bars, the ones he didn’t touch reacting to the iron just as well and soon, the bars were twisted and bent away, leaving a gaping hole in the middle.

 

His legs almost gave out when he struggled to pass through the narrow opening, his body not healing as much as it should even if half of him was out of the Cancelling Cell. He stopped, rested for a few breaths, and then slid out of the cell, the bark scratching at his ribs but unable to hold him back.

 

Once completely out, he leaned on the wall, pressing his forehead against the cold surface to soothe his overworked body and the turned his back to the wall and looked around him, breathless. There was dozens of cell, most of them occupied with gnomes, elves, repulsive creatures that looked at him with wide eyes and reached out to him through the bars. He saw that those who had a recognizable mouth were speaking to him but he heard no sound. A Muting Spell. Of course, cells in the castle shouldn’t disturb the royalties. 

 

Now that was out of his cell, the spell wouldn’t work on him anymore but Chanyeol wasn’t worried about his natural ability to remain muted as he pushed himself away from the wall and headed towards the left, where the wall curved and, hopefully, led to the exit door. He quickened his steps when he reached it and instantly jumped out of the corner, startling a guard at his desk and, before he could attack Chanyeol first, striking his neck with the flat of the iron tip on his sword. The stench of burnt skin arose in the air as the guard yelled out in pain before crumbling to the ground. Chanyeol spared him a mocking glance. Rufus Aureusians and their complete repulsion to iron made them weak adversaries.

 

Already hearing footsteps rushing towards him, Chanyeol tightened his grip on his sword and threw himself out of the door, bursting into a run. Another corridor of cells, a guard rushing towards him as roots erupted from the ground and stabbed towards Chanyeol. He cut them off with a flick of his wrist, jumping over the bark piercing towards his feet, and clashing his sword against his opponent’s. The guard struggled against him and Chanyeol struggled against his own irritation at the fact that he was too weakened to overpower him with no fuss. 

 

He kept his eyes on the clashing point of their swords, pushing with everything he had left in him to make sure the guard wouldn’t free himself from the pressure. The sole of his shoe scratched against the ground as he was pushed back when the guard groan, unwilling to lose to lose the fight. His arms were starting to shake so he distracted the elf by decreasing his strength altogether and at the first sign of victory, when the guard pushed harder and Chanyeol’s own sword neared his face, Chanyeol jumped back. He quickly bent backwards to avoid the sword when the guard tumbled forward with nothing supporting him anymore and then straightened again. He raised his weaker leg and kicked him right bellow the knee.

 

The guard lost balance and Chanyeol grabbed the occasion to strike against his cheek with enough precision for the iron on the tip to sear the guard’s skin, although he lost balance himself and the blade cut through the blackening skin a little. He didn’t feel any regret when he saw the blood that oozed out of the wound steaming in the burn spreading on the skin. 

 

Once the elf crashed on the ground, moaning in pain, Chanyeol took a quick moment to catch his breath, pushing hair away from his face and making sure that the guard wouldn’t die from so little. He didn’t want to kill anyone, it would cause too much problem and that wasn’t what he was here for. He didn’t need to worsen his case.

 

The door swung open and in came two more guards. Chanyeol stepped away from the wall, stumbled a little, and then lurched himself towards them, brandishing his sword at the same time as they did, only to throw himself to the ground. Their blades followed him and planted a hairsbreadth away from his feet, only a moment before he hooked them around an ankle of each of the guards and pulled them to the ground. He twisted his wrist, too much, too unnaturally, slapped the flat of the tip against the arm of one of the elves, then the other arm, before the sword of the other guard sliced through his arm, a small cut that Chanyeol prevented from turning into something worse by rolling away just in time. It still felt like a rip off of his entire limb.

 

However, the guard struck again and to save his hand, Chanyeol let go of his sword, crawling back and away from his opponent. The grunts of the wounded elf laid on the floor didn’t drown out the deluge of footsteps rushing towards them in the hallway, on the other side of the door. Chanyeol looked back at his opponent and calmly watched as the guard walked towards the sword laying on the ground, features drenched in victory. Chanyeol stayed where he was, on the ground, and that victory drowned in a scream when the guard grabbed the sword by its handle, letting go of it immediately after. The clunk of the blade bouncing on the ground was as ugly as the skin peeling off the guard’ palm while he held his wrist with his healthy hand and kneeled on the floor in pain.

 

Chanyeol jumped back up to his feet, tucked his gloves properly up his hands, entrusting them with the protection of his skin before grabbing his sword, and running out of the door and almost tripping as he went down the stairs.

 

Four guards were already heading towards him when he opened another door and ended up on another floor of Cell Tower. Chanyeol had almost lost in a fight against two guards, saved only by the fact that his adversary hadn’t recognized the handle of his sword as iron. He would lose this fight. He couldn’t lose this fight, not after everything he had gone through, not when the wellbeing of his Kingdom and its Ruler depended on him.

 

Chanyeol didn't stop running, even as the ground beneath his feet started quaking. He ran, ran, ran, brandishing his sword against four others, but before they could clash, he used the momentum of his run to jump, twist his body around throw himself to the left. He should’ve stopped running first but Chanyeol could barely even hear any lucid thought over the soreness in his whole body and as a result, he only collected more pain when his shoulder clashed against the wall instead of glass while the handle of his sword shattered the only window in the hallway.

 

He fell, felt glass cutting through his neck, cheeks, and the summit of his ears, felt the wind and the Glamour in the air, but he kept his eyes open and was relieved to see that the ground expecting him bellow was covered in bushes, even if he was falling from quite high. He closed his eyes and his body slammed in thorns, bushes crushed under his weight, and sharp sizzles vibrating through his arms and hips.

 

For a moment, his mind tumbled over. Chanyeol heard a whistle in his ears, like the scream of a banshee, like the wail of agony. He moved his head, shook it, scratched his cheeks against more thorns, opened his eyes, and tried to untangle himself from his prison of pain, using his despair as the key to unlock his cage.

 

He squirmed enough to roll over and fall off the bushes, a muted groan clawing out of his mouth when something in his his waist cracked. He got up, swayed, but felt no pain in his hips. Something had snapped back into place then, not out of place. He leaned over to retrieve his sword from the bushes, grip not as tight as it should be around it. His wrist hurt.

 

Something bright and green burst near his feet and Chanyeol looked up, seeing only one guard at the broken window on the fourth floor of the tower. He stepped over the smoke billowing out of the spot the flame had landed, and took off, away from the tower.

 

He could barely see anything as he escaped, everything around him a blur of color, the heavily sweet aroma of Glamour in the air worsening his shortening of breath. He missed the stale odor of his own Kingdom’s Glamour. He pushed on his legs harder and ran, ran, ran, hearing but not listening to the screams behind him, somehow managing to avoid the pebbles flying towards him, the roots bursting out of the ground, and the flames of Glamour thrown towards him. Not for long. He tripped on something and crashed on the ground, crawling for a moment before getting back up, nauseous, entrapped by the burn in his hand, the air in his lungs, but still running.

 

He took a left turn amongst a row of bushes, took another left near a fountain of gold beads, their twinkling pounding in his brain like the cackle of Beebirds. He crashed against a tree when he turned to the right, accidentally nicking the bark with the iron on his blade and pushing himself away, running again before he could see the damage. He ran and the air candied even more, loosened, thickened the nausea wrenching his stomach into knots. 

 

Too many scents. Fruit, leaves, trees whispered their perfume to each other. Pounds, burnt skin, flowers competing for the widest spot in Chanyeol’s lungs. Too many colors. Reds blurring out into pinks, oranges stretching into petals, a new shade with each blink of Chanyeol’s eyes. Varicolored dots running along Chanyeol, hovering in the air, getting in his face, refusing to leave even as he swatted them away. Glamour.

 

Too many pathways, grass that tickled his feet even through his shoes, flower beds that hissed when he trampled over them, carved cobbles, but no indication as to how Chanyeol was supposed to get to the Throne. He should’ve studied harder. He should’ve hid and perfected his plan before throwing himself out of the border. He should’ve figured a better way. He should do it. He had to do it. Chanyeol must do it.

 

He came to a halt, crashed against another tree, the impact shaking the branches and startling ripe Lovelies into dropping, the fragile navy skin of each fruit bursting at the first contact with the ground and splattering juice all over the ground. Chanyeol didn’t look at the fruits, couldn’t look at anything else but what was happening only a few steps away from him

 

Amidst the flutter of wings and the luster of bellflowers colored in every blue ever created, a young fairy sat, golden eyes and red strands of hair vivider than any other streak of magic in the garden.

 

His ears were as pointy as Chanyeol’s but the gentle features and the graceful way he held himself, along with the way he fit so well in this wide garden, as if he were its centerpiece, could only be ascribed to a fairy, not an elf. 

 

Chanyeol’s worn out body slumped against the tree for a moment, no thundering footsteps behind him, only crystalline sounds elevating in front of him, glimmering in the air as if Glamour itself tuned the fairy’s laughter. It didn’t scintillate more than the bronze dusted in the corners of his eyes, a cold touch that didn’t melt away the candor of his beauty but made it even harder to look away. Chanyeol blinked, once, twice, and his cloudy gaze finally discerned the wings again, those of a dozen pixies flying around the fairy, two of them somersaulting in the air as the others cheered them on, tiny, but bursting with energy.

 

It all shattered when Chanyeol met the gaze of one pixie for a split moment.

 

"Iron!" the tiny being screamed, pointing to him with a trembling hand, the other pressing against her mouth and muting everyone around her.

 

Chanyeol met the fairy’s gaze, blinked, dizzy because he was exhausted, dizzy because he had never seen a richer shade of gold. He broke out of his daze when every pixie screamed at once, colliding against each other as they swirled around the fairy and then scattered in puffs of pixie dust, all disappearing. Except one male pixie who hid behind the fairy’s shoulder, the honey tone of his clothes blending with the fairy’s rotund robes.

 

Then, light shimmered all around the fairy as he stood up and took a step towards Chanyeol, one of his hands held out in front of him in anything but a friendly stance. Chanyeol’s hand tightened around the handle of his sword as much as it could, pain puling through his arm, boiling on the wound near his shoulder.

 

"Who are you?" he asked but before Chanyeol could lament at the fact that this was yet another Rufus Aureusian who questioned the enemy instead of fighting him, he spoke again. "What are you doing here?"

 

A controlled voice that was empty of all sugariness it had carried in the midst of laughter. Wary enough, not threatening enough. Chanyeol took a step forward, slowly, no brusque movement, but the light around the fairy gathered in his palm, stronger. Now, Chanyeol could hear the footsteps again. They might ask stupid questions but at least, those guards were determined.

 

This creature looked important enough. Chanyeol lowered his blade, held his other hand out as a sign of reassurance.

 

"I just want to talk to the Queen," Chanyeol assured, hold tightening around his sword when the chatter of voices and footsteps became much too close to his backside.

 

"Your-" a voice arose behind him, cut off when the fairy raised his other hand towards them in a silencing motion without looking away from Chanyeol.

 

The footsteps petered out, the voices muting at once, but Chanyeol remained attentive to the sounds surrounding him. As attentive as he could be while dizzy and suffering in all parts of his body.

 

"Why would a knight of the Court of Cinereus wish to talk to the Queen of Rufus Aureus?" he asked, voice steady and calm, just like the slow fall of his hand back to his side, his other one still nesting Glamour in its palm.

 

Chanyeol kept himself from showing displeasure at the fact that while he had no idea who he was talking to, the fairy had easily figured out he was a knight. He supposed he was a member of the royal family, the signature golds and reds he was wearing were a giveaway, but perhaps he was low-ranked enough to be allowed to play outside with pixies. A King or the Crown Prince would never see such behavior fit to themselves. He had never seen any member of the Royal Family, not a single image of them could be found in Cinereus. 

 

Chanyeol should’ve perfected his plan. He should’ve studied this Kingdom more instead of focusing on the main actors of their feud, the late King, the Queen, and the Crown Prince.

 

"I need to speak to her," he repeated, lowering his sword, its weight was starting to wear him out. He couldn’t plant it on the ground and support himself on it, the tip would harm the soil. He couldn’t fade it either, he wouldn’t be able to summon it again for a while and he refused to make the mistake of leaving himself defenseless in such a weak state. "It’s a matter that concerns both our Kingdom and yours. A matter that concerns all three Kingdoms of Reveries."

 

The silence of the fairy’s stare was as grave as Chanyeol’s tone had been as he pronounced those words. For a moment, Chanyeol only heard the chant of the bellflowers surrounding the creature, the cacophony of his heartbeat disturbing what could’ve been an appeasing aria.

 

"You may leave. Don’t speak word of our guest to anyone," he eventually said, turning his head towards the guards. Chanyeol blinked once, twice, trying to adjust his sight to how bright the sparkles at the inner corner of the fairy’s eyes was, a bronze contrasting with the gold of his eyes. It was most probably fairy dust but Chanyeol wasn’t sure whether it was a natural part of the fairy’s morphology or not.

 

"But," Chanyeol immediately recognized the voice that had held a knife against his throat, "it isn’t safe, Your—"

 

"I can take care of myself," the fairy protested, eyebrows furrowed and mouth twisted. "Leave us alone. Quietly, please," he said and Chanyeol found it off how his tone didn’t differ from its polite, soft-spoken edge even though the offense was clear on his face.

 

Chanyeol turned his head to look at the guards, met the gaze of a few of them, and couldn’t hold in a smile as they slowly backed away. He looked back at the fairy once they were far out of the garden, noting the lack of bright green on his hands and the quick blinking of the pixie who peeked at Chanyeol from behind the fairy’s shoulder.

 

A foolish move. They trusted others too easily. Had Chanyeol’s intentions been different, it would’ve been easy to take the fairy down now that they were alone and his guard was down. Or perhaps not. Chanyeol couldn’t take down more than three guards and whoever this being was, he seemed much more powerful than mere guards.

 

"Why are you here?" the fairy asked again, for the second time and Chanyeol was growing restless, adjusting his stance to alleviate the pain in his leg.

 

"I need to warn the Queen," he answered, words scratchy and gritted by his teeth. This was an urgent matter and this fairy was doing nothing but holding him back. Chanyeol should’ve ran more instead of stopping at the sight of someone who might be of help to him.

 

"Why would you warn us? Why would we trust you?" the fairy retorted, slowly walking closer to Chanyeol who took a deep breath in to calm himself down. He felt like they were stuck in a loop of their conversation and the fairy was unwilling to let it move forward. Instead, he studied Chanyeol carefully, gaze trailing over his body and rigidifying Chanyeol’s limbs. "What do you want to warn us of?"

 

"What is it you want to hear from me?" Chanyeol snapped as the fairy stood in front of him, the pixie flying up to whisper something in his ear.

 

"It’s alright," he said, patting the pixie’s head with a finger as caring as the smile he covered to the small creature. He looked back at Chanyeol once the pixie sat on his shoulder, crossed its arms, and glared at Chanyeol. "I’m just trying to figure out if I can trust your words."

 

"I have betrayed my King by coming here," Chanyeol said, voice lowering to a whisper despite himself, tamed by the shame devouring his insides and sizzling through his bones, an additional layer of pain.

 

The fairy tilted his head, narrowed his eyes for a moment, reading Chanyeol, making it hard for Chanyeol to read him back. His features unraveled from the tension sculpting them, but he didn’t lose a bit of the solemnity dulling the sparkles at the corners of his eyes.

 

"Have you betrayed your King or has your King betrayed you?"

 

The glow of his sword momentarily blinded Chanyeol when he snapped it through the air and pointed it against the fairy’s neck, close enough for him to tilt his head up in order to avoid the iron tip.

 

"And who the fuck are you to question my King?" Chanyeol hissed, darkness closing in on him as he blinked a few times, the fairy’s grin beaming at him brighter each time he opened his eyes again. His lower lip glittered, adding jest to his face. The worried flutter of the pixie’s wings as it flew off his shoulder was too boisterous.

 

Slowly, he raised his hand, not minding Chanyeol’s gaze one bit as it followed it. He swallowed when the fairy pressed two fingers against the blade of his sword, avoiding the iron.

 

"I am the youngest Prince of Rufus Aureus and your only key to meeting the Queen so I suggest you use a kinder tone on me." He pushed down on the sword very lightly and Chanyeol fought it for a blink of the eyes. His only key. He hated it. But for his King, he lowered his sword and swallowed the irritation back down when the fairy smiled at him. "Thank you."

 

The pixie flew between them, back turned to Chanyeol as it inspected the Prince’s neck for a moment before turning to Chanyeol and pointing an accusing finger at him.

 

"This could’ve been dangerous," he reprimanded Chanyeol, pouty lips and and puffy cheeks.

 

Chanyeol snorted, fought the urge to swat him away. "I did it _because_ it could’ve been dangerous," he retorted, glaring right back at the creature who crossed his arms and turned his back to him with no reply.

 

The Prince laughed, still laughed despite the urgency with which Chanyeol had been trying to convince him. It all reinforced the prejudice he had against Rufus Aurusians. Too positive. Too goofy. Too happy. Too careless. Weak.

 

"It’s alright," the Prince said again, looking at the pixie. "Go find the others and tell them everything’s fine. They got quite the scare," he said, glancing at Chanyeol who did not move, nor feel any kind of remorse.

 

The pixie looked between them worriedly, flying off in a puff of sparkly dust only after the Prince nodded at him.

 

Chanyeol met the Prince’s gaze, expectant, and was returned another nod.

 

"Follow me," he said, stepping past Chanyeol, heading towards the path Chanyeol had ran through to stumble upon him. "I’ll take you to the Queen."

 

Chanyeol watched him walk away for a moment. The red of his hair wasn’t blurry when a zephyr picked up a few strands, the ribbon holding his gown together displayed a slender waist but his shoulders looked broad and strong. Light reflected on the golden swirls and patterns that were scattered over the red of his clothes. He didn’t walk quickly, but didn’t have the cadence of a wanderer constantly looking for a destination. He walked like he knew where he was headed, with the confidence of someone who’d been _taught_ how to walk faultlessly but not monotonously. 

 

Chanyeol followed behind, tightening his hold around his sword.

 

"That easily?" he asked, partially wary of their real destination and partially surprised by the suddenly simple turn this had taken. "You’re going to bring your enemy to your Queen that easily?"

 

The Prince stopped, turning to look at Chanyeol, head tilted, the bubble hanging on his earlobe by a silver thread glistening in rainbow colors as it bounced against his neck. The delicacy of his skin must be alike to that of the jewelry, it didn’t burst at the collision. The sharpness of his jawline wasn’t delicate but striking - and it didn’t look misplaced.

 

"Do you think it’s a foolish move?" he asked, muting Chanyeol for a moment. He wasn’t used to hearing royalty address their own foolishness so casually. He wasn’t used to royalty even considering the fact that they were foolish.

 

"I do," Chanyeol replied, just as direct, a little more resentful. He wasn’t comfortable in this Kingdom. It was too different.

 

The Prince smiled, the pink of it complementing the ephemeral splendor of his earrings. But the bubble hadn’t burst at the bump against his skin, perhaps it wasn’t that ephemeral.

 

"I’m not foolish," he said, turning his back to Chanyeol again and resuming his walk. "Just very smart."

 

Chanyeol had learned not to trust people who boasted their own intelligence. He caught up to the Prince and walked beside him, keeping himself closer in case he’d need to attack.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol had never been to the castle, had never even been to Rufus Aureus before.

 

Even though there was a reception around every thirty Suns, with members of the Cinereusian court invited to Rufus Aureus for all but two Slumbers, Chanyeol had never attended any of them. He’d always preferred staying back home and making sure that everything was well and in order throughout the Ruler’s absence. Even the King himself always personally tasked Chanyeol with the supervision of the Kingdom while he was away.

 

Chanyeol had always prided himself in the fact that he was one of the King’s most trusted knights and there he was, strolling through Rufus Aureus’ castle, accompanied by the youngest Prince as they headed towards the Queen’s Throne.

 

The castle was objectively pretty, he supposed, ornamented with glistening greens, rubicund shades, royal golds, intricate vases, carpets threaded with the finest mermaid hair, and embellished mirrors that pointed out faults, pulled out your inner self, deformed appearances. It was just as big as the castle he was used to live in, had enormous and numerous rooms and with a single glimpse into them — allowed by the lack doors — Chanyeol could decipher that none of them were identical. 

 

There were different themes. What looked like a resting room puffy with cushions of a sparkly material that he imagined wasn’t as harsh on skin as it looked, dozens of couches, tables that were crowded with bronze trinkets and supervised by an assortissrment of golden leaves hanging on the ceiling.

 

Many more rooms, in bright colors, purple, fuchsia, turquoise, pealing bells, clear glasses levitating against the wall in neat rows, lightning flowers stretched tall and opened wide to illuminate the entire castle. Walls were made out of bubbles, crystal swirls, tapestried with Whistleworm skin or stained glass. It was relatively empty but gnomes were walking around and then running past Chanyeol without looking at him whenever they neared him, regaining a normal walking pace when they were far enough from him.

 

The hall they were walking through was long and twisty, Chanyeol realized it would’ve tired him out to run through the castle if he were to look for the Queen on his own with no clue as to where he would even find her. But it was pleasant. If it hadn’t been so colorful and obnoxious, it would’ve been better. They took the Cabin and Chanyeol was surprised to see that it was pushed up by a Retractee, a plant that seemingly stretched up and then shrunk back down. Back in Cinereus, they propelled Cabins up with a system that pumped air to lift them up and then sucked the air back in to lower them.

 

When they reached the third floor of the castle, he could at least focus on the Momentas hung amidst the flowers growing on the walls. Chanyeol’s gaze was caught by a particular Momenta that framed his King and the last King of Rufus Aureus tying threads of Glamour splurging from their palms to seal the peace between the two Kingdoms.

 

"It’s my most favorite Momenta in our castle," the Prince said, stopping his walk in front of it and pushing Chanyeol to do the same while snapping him out of the sorrow he felt at the sight of the smile adorning his Ruler’s features.

 

He turned away from the Momenta as it played for the third time and looked at the Prince instead, taking in the faint curve on his lips as he watched the frame.

 

"We don’t have a Momenta of this," Chanyeol confessed, not suffocating the intrigue in his voice.

 

There was a lot of things in this castle that they didn’t have back at home. Flowers had stopped growing in Cinereus. The King didn’t like carpets and had banned them all from the Kingdom, pushing everyone to decorate their floors with different kinds of stone or Glamour. But mostly, the entirety of Cinereus was full of items stolen from the Human Realm, screens, wooden structures, and the latest trend, something humans called _fan_ and that could produce wind for a short moment if alimented with enough Glamour. Then, it exploded and whoever had tried alimenting it was left exhausted. The oddity of the item was worth the exertion.

 

This place was so different and Chanyeol felt unfit. 

 

The most striking sign of it was the fact that everyone’s hands were bare. In Cinereus, the small presence of iron made it impossible to carelessly touch anything. It wasn’t everywhere, but it was around. In streetlights, in benches, in door handles, in items stolen from the Human Realm, in the castle, in the weapons they fought with. Cinereusians were adapted to iron, much less sensitive to it than Rufus Areusians, but they weren’t immune to it. They could live around a limited quantity of it but couldn’t touch it without suffering its harmful consequences.

 

"My father didn’t want to have a Momenta of this either," the Prince said, looking at Chanyeol, addressing him as if he was a regular, ordinary member of his Court. How strange. Chanyeol never once loosened his grip on his sword, even if his hand was starting to fade into numbness. "But I insisted. This is an important moment, after all."

 

Chanyeol was pretty sure no one thought of that moment kindly. Both Kingdoms had to make amends and consensus to end the Great War. He, in particular, found the Treaty that had been signed more unfair for Cinereus than it was for Rufus Aureus but at that time, he knew that both Kingdoms were worn out at the front and thought peace a necessity. And they had gotten peace but that was a notion which, despite tying both Kingdoms together, was stretched out by how far they stood from each other. Neither Kingdom refused to take a step closer and the thread was frail, could snap at any moment.

 

It made little to no sense that the Prince wanted a Momenta of the moment the Treaty of Bellish was signed but before he could question him about it, footsteps headed towards them, a group that rounded the corner of the hallway just as Chanyeol snapped his gaze towards them.

 

This time, he recognized the Crown Prince leading his cortege of gnomes and guards. Perhaps the Crown Prince had a mild recognition of who he was, he stopped at once, the gnomes behind him bumping into each other. Chanyeol tightened his stance as the Prince stepped to stand between him and the Crown Prince who looked at him, features gathering into rage when he walked towards them. His hair and eyes were just as red and golden as the fairy accompanying through the castle, but his demeanor was nothing alike.

 

"Isn’t that the Cinereusian knight who’s supposed to be locked in our cells?" he asked, looking at the Prince and completely discarding Chanyeol’s presence. If Chanyeol had been sensitive, he would’ve taken offense at the fact that the Crown Prince didn’t see him worthy enough to look at him while talking about him. But he wasn’t sensitive, nor was he scared so he stood next to the Prince rather than behind him.

 

"Your Enchantment," he greeted, curtsying as best as he could when his legs felt numb and tingly at the same time. He was fully aware of his body’s state now that he didn’t have a castle to study but a Crown Prince to address.

 

When he straightened up again, the Crown Prince still did not spare him a single glance.

 

"It is," the Prince who stood by his side eventually said, replying to the elder Prince’s question, albeit tardily. Chanyeol looked at him, took in the confident stature and the lack of panic or remorse at the fact that he was strolling around the castle with the enemy.

 

The Crown Prince scoffed in disbelief and Chanyeol wasn’t sure whether it stemmed from the confirmation of his identity or the casualness of the Prince, but he still felt a glimmer of satisfaction.

 

"And why is he with you and not in his cell?" the Crown Prince asked and Chanyeol was itching to give him his own answer but not only was it frowned upon to interfere in a conversation between royalties but he wasn’t even in his own Kingdom. His word didn’t matter here.

 

"He wants to talk to Mother," the Prince said, the large sleeves of his robes fluttering when he moved to cross his arms against his chest.

 

Another scoff. The Crown Prince shifted on his feet, stepping forward and then stepping back again. Chanyeol found that amount of restlessness unnecessary. 

 

"He will do no such thing," he spat out before turning to the guard on his right. Chanyeol studied the cortege behind him. Four guards, three gnomes, and a female fairy dressed in plain clothes, probably a servant. He was weak, could still barely hold himself on his feet, his left ankle spasmed with every step he took. It would be a difficult fight. "Bring him back to his cell. The council will gather immediately and we’ll decide what to do with him."

 

The guard stepped towards Chanyeol who did the same thing but before he could attack first, the Prince extended his arm in front of him, blocking him and the guard at the same time.

 

"No," he said, voice suddenly broad, Chanyeol’s puzzlement even broader as he looked down at the hand pressed against his abdomen. "You cannot gather the Council. Only the Ruler can do that. The Queen. Letting him talk to her is the wisest thing to do."

 

The Crown Prince remained silent, the guard stepping back and glancing at him. His jaw clenched up as he glowered at the Prince.

 

"Fine," he hissed eventually, throwing his hands up in a theatrical display of exasperation, looking at Chanyeol for the first time. The way his nose twitched in disdain didn’t upset Chanyeol, only made him jubilate at the fact that he could get such a strong reaction out of his enemy with his silent presence alone. He looked back at the Prince, gaze sharper. "Make him fade his sword at least. The iron is a stench I can smell from the other side of the castle and it scares everyone."

 

Without leaving anyone the chance to say anything, he whipped around in a blur of white and emerald fabric, his cortege parting in two to let him walk through, and then following him in silence again.

 

The Prince sighed and finally dropped his arm to his side again, turning to Chanyeol.

 

"I apologize in his stead," he said, the sincerity in his frown surprising Chanyeol more than his words. "Everything is a little tensed up here lately, he’s not as unpleasant usually."

 

Not knowing what to say, Chanyeol shook his head at first. "I can understand his reaction, to some extent."

 

"In that case, would you please fade your weapon?" he asked, tone entirely different from the authority and the haughtiness of the Crown Prince’s. He glanced down at Chanyeol’s sword. "It is indeed making everyone uncomfortable. The gnomes are frightened."

 

He knew. One of them had tripped and broken a glass in his haste to run away from Chanyeol earlier. He looked down at his sword, pressing his lips together. It had taken all of his Glamour to summon it and considering his physical state, it was his only dependance in combat. Chanyeol knew to admit weakness and possibilities of defeat. If he were to engage in a fight, he wouldn’t make it without his sword.

 

He looked back up at the Prince who stood there, unmoving as he stared at Chanyeol expectantly. He had a feeling they wouldn’t be advancing more until he got rid of his sword so with a wish a twist of his wrist, Chanyeol faded his sword and then raised both hands to display their emptiness to the Prince.

 

"Thank you very much," he said and no matter how hard Chanyeol dug into those words, there was not a spark of mockery or insincerity.

 

This was an odd Prince, he thought as they resumed their walk in silence.

 

With his hands now empty, Chanyeol felt terribly awkward and at the mercy of even the tiniest of gnome giving him the stinky eye in this endless hallway. For lack of anything else to do as he followed the Prince in complete silence, Chanyeol raised his hands to his hair and pulled the tie away from the few strands of hair it was still holding in. He might as well better his appearance a little. Tilting his head down, he gathered all his hair, save for a few strands that were too short to be tied and fell down his forehead again, and quickly worked on tying it into a bun.

 

"You have really nice hair," the Prince suddenly said, startling Chanyeol who looked up at him, hands idle in his hair. They stopped walking and Chanyeol resumed his task. He despised himself a little bit when he felt his arms tiring out from something as simple as tying his hair. "Have you ever tried braiding it?" the Prince asked then, gaze focused on Chanyeol’s hair rather than his face.

 

He huffed out a laugh full of disbelief. The Prince did look like the kind who’d enjoy sitting in the garden and braiding pixies’ hair.

 

He dropped his hands once he was done and gestured towards the door in front of which they stood.

 

"Is this the Throne room?" he asked, choosing to ignore the other’s silly inquiry.

 

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, scrunching his nose a little. "You shouldn’t be as tight as your bun," was the first thing he said, turning away from Chanyeol’s offended expression to nod at the door. "This is the Queen’s chambers. She’s ill and spends her days resting for a quick recovery."

 

"Ill?" Chanyeol hadn’t heard about that, he was sure his King hadn’t either. "How ill?"

 

"She will recover," the Prince retorted dryly, a warning on the pull of his eyebrows. Chanyeol didn’t take it seriously but still raised his hands in apology. "Which is why we’re not telling anyone yet. You’re also going to talk to her by the door, without getting close to her. I don’t trust you," he announced with no hesitation but a lot of wariness in the way he stared at Chanyeol.

 

"It’s mutual," Chanyeol replied with a similar tone and without further conversation, the Prince knocked on the door thrice, waited a moment, and then opened it.

 

Chanyeol took a deep breath in, collecting his thoughts, remembering his purpose, and followed the Prince inside.

 

The room wasn’t dark, Chanyeol had noticed that there wasn’t a single corner of darkness in the castle, but it was silent despite the signature loud colors ascribed to the Kingdom. The form resting on the bed was frail even under the covers, a pool of long silver hair glistening all around the Queen like a crown adjusting to the entire length of her body. Her hands were linked on her body, above the brown, luscious fabric of her blanket and if there was something that Chanyeol would admit, it was that Rufus Aureusians had always held a certain grace in their demeanor.

 

He stood in front of the door and looked around himself, analyzing the stained glass forming three windows in the room, the table stretching over the length of one the wall, carrying both parchments, books, and cutlery along with a few glasses and a carafe of a clear blue liquid. On either sides of the door Chanyeol was in front of, stood long branches, swirling into an intricate but beautiful touch of art. If needed, Chanyeol could grab one of them and use it as a weapon.

 

"Baekhyun," came a frail voice that shuddered on its second syllable, as if it was a leaf and the Prince’s name was but a strong breeze. 

 

Chanyeol looked back at the Prince who was now sitting at a corner of the bed, his hand stretching out to grab the Queen’s fingers. They weren’t pale but they were sickly. Unnaturally brown, the worrisome color seeping up her wrist and fading into her normal, washed out skin tone. Chanyeol laced his hands behind his back. 

 

"What brings you here?" she whispered, coughing at the end of her sentence. It sounded like a grate.

 

"Can’t I visit my mother just because I feel like it?" the Prince answered and he wasn’t ill, but his voice trembled just the same as his mother’s. "How are you feeling?"

 

The Queen laughed, her face wrinkled by age, but her beauty triumphant in the battle of her body against time. Time was such a vague notion in Reveries, something unneeded, nothing that bounded any of them the way it did with Humans. They didn’t even have any means of keeping track time. Considering human standards, a Sun could last anywhere in-between a day and three months while a Moon could adorn the sky in darkness for an entire year if it so wished. Humans entertained themselves with seconds, minutes, hours, a futile chase against time, a foolish thirst of controlling it. 

 

In Reveries, they did no such thing. Beings who transcended the concept of time had no need to put numbers on every moment. Beings who could live one day and wish to fade the next. Who could live for thousands of human years without even knowing it. 

 

Perhaps it was because Cinereusians were much closer to Human functions and traditions, but Chanyeol could tell that the Queen shouldn’t look as aged and crackled as she did. Her eyes were the same as the Prince’s but they looked bedimmed, pools of molten gold dulled by sickness. Her time shouldn’t have come yet, it felt too early. If he recalled correctly, Rufus Aureus’ King had lived for much, much longer than her before dying.

 

"I feel like you owe me a story," she said and the Prince laughed, looking up. Chanyeol followed his gaze to the table by the bed. They were all beings that humans wrote stories about but the Queen kept a book, a story on her bedside table. "But it wasn’t you that I was talking to. What brings you here, knight?"

 

Chanyeol’s gaze flickered back to the Queen, to the fissures around her eyes. Out of respect, he lowered his gaze, forced his legs to bend as he bowed to her, a hand remaining behind him and the other pressing against his chest.

 

"I’ve come to warn you, Your Enchantment," Chanyeol said in the most grave voice he could muster. His back hurt a little when he straightened up again to look at the Queen.

 

"Oh, I know," she said and Chanyeol glanced at the Prince right when he whipped around to look at the Queen. "That’s why you let yourself get caught in our land."

 

Chanyeol parted his lips but remained silent for a moment. It was only when he saw the Prince’s knowing smile that he pushed himself to speak, out of spite.

 

"May I ask how you figured that out?"

 

"If you’ve managed to escape our Cancelling Cells," she stopped for a long fit of coughs, patted the Prince’s hand to stop him when he made to stand up, "then you would’ve easily won against my guards as they chased you."

 

"I did not come for trouble. I’m merely here for the good of both my Kingdom and yours," he said, feeling like he had to justify himself even if it was getting tiring to repeat himself over and over again to different people.

 

"Go on then, tell me," she said as the Prince finally got up and reached for the jug of water next to the book, pouring it into a glass.

 

Chanyeol waited for the Queen to finish drinking with the help of her son before speaking. 

 

"Our Ruler is being threatened by the Iron King," he said, hands curling into fists of their own will as he pronounced those despicable words.

 

"Threatened?" she repeated, laying back down with a quiet moan of pain.

 

"I fear whoever the new King of Piceus is, he’s trying to assert his power over the whole of Reveries and his first target is Cinereus," Chanyeol explained, frowning when the Queen and the Prince looked at each other. He took a step forward but stopped when the Prince whipped his gaze to him in warning. He remained where he stood and used his hands to illustrate the urgency of the situation with great gestures. "Our Kingdom is already on the verge of falling. There is no battle but our people is being harmed by the inside, through the King’s unwilling actions. I don’t know what that King did but he is already infiltrating our Kingdom and yours might be next. I came here both to warn you of the incoming danger and," he stopped, sourness cutting him off with a blow, "and to ask for your help in regaining control over Cinereus."

 

"Are you sent by your King?" the Prince wondered, taking part in the conversation for the first time.

 

Chanyeol looked down regrettably. "No. This is my own initiative. My King is not in any state to take decisions of his own will at the moment. I don’t think the decisions he’s been taking lately are of his own will. He’s doing things out of the norm, unpredictably. He might even be forced to attack you."

 

"You’re not making sense, boy. Has your Land been attacked by Piceus?" she asked, voice free of any squeak and cough but empty of any urgency.

 

It felt like no one but him actually understood what was happening.

 

"No," Chanyeol hesitated before gathering more conviction into his voice. "No. But I believe we are being invaded and our King is keeping it from us," he affirmed, looking between the two royalties. The Queen closed her eyes but the Prince stared right back at him, chewing on his lower lip.

 

"Those are your personal observations. You’re not sent by your King. You’re here alone and what you claim cannot happen. I feel you’re either feeding your own paranoia or prisoner of your delusions," she huffed, triggering another fit of gooey rattles out of her mouth. The Prince turned to her again and grabbed her hand with both of his this time. She was breathless when she resumed speaking. "We have a pact. A deal. Between Piceus and both our Kingdoms. No communication, no war. No intervention. Piceus cannot do anything to either of us."

 

"A pact is nothing," Chanyeol snapped, voice gaining in volume. He twisted his face, glancing at the Prince who surprisingly didn’t say nor do anything. "It can easily be breached. Ripped off and ignored. It is a new King we’re talking about. We were both suddenly notified that the Iron King had died and that he had left the Kingdom to his successor’s hands. We’ve never heard about him having a successor before. We don’t even know his name or where he’s coming from, how can you be so sure that he’ll respect a pact made hundreds of Suns ago?"

 

"Do you have proof that it is indeed your King who’s threatened by Piceus and that your presence here isn’t a ploy made for _your_ Kingdom to invade ours?"

 

Her voice gradually tightened into a whistle by the end of her sentence, ringing in Chanyeol’s ears and bringing back the nausea that he had thought he’d managed to tame.

 

He parted his lips, brought his right hand in front of him, fingers of his left hand tucking at a tip of a finger of his right one, grabbing the fabric of his glove.

 

"I do," he said, unable to keep his voice steady under the weight piling up on his shoulder, under the gazes, the disbelief, the gravity of the situation, and the pain.

 

When both the Queen and the Prince looked down at his fingers, he pulled the glove off his hand with a muted hiss suffocated by the Queen’s wheezed, loud gasp, an intake of already stained air.

 

Pitch black fabric made way for the putrified black spreading over his hand, rotten skin ruptured and peeling, bubbling under the burn of the ring around his finger. It provided the only touch of color on his hand, iron grey.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some clarifications!!!
> 
> This story is loosely inspired by the Iron Fey book series by Julie Kagawa. The universe is the same but I tweaked it a lot and the plot has absolutely nothing to do with the novels so don't worry if you've already read it or if you've never even heard of it, it won't affect your reading of this fic either way hehe I also probably don't respect the setting that much, as in the creatures and the places and traditions described bc I haven't read that thing in well 5 years and I wouldn't want to plainly follow the entire setting either anyway.
> 
> I also tried doing research on the whole fairies and elves concept but quickly gave up so... I'm truly winging this at this point lmao If this story doesn't fit your own conception of what fairies and elves and all that should be, I'm sorry ;; but well! it's fiction anyway, isn't it? 
> 
> Also I know most people think that fairies and elves are the same thing but here I made a small distinction, as explained in the fic but I'm gonna put it plainly here just to make sure! Basically fairies and elves have the same appearance as in pointy ears, both can have skin of a varying shade (like green bc thats fun) but! Fairies in this story are more gracious beings and by that I don't mean weak at all, I just mean in appearance they're not bulky or harsh-looking at all but can be just as powerful as elves! They just look more... magical? They also have a better link to nature and Glamour which is why they mostly do stuff related to that while, as you'll see here, elves are mainly used as knights, warriors, or stuff like that. I want to stress this, fairies aren't weaker than elves.
> 
> And as you've probably figured, Glamour is bagically the name of the magic used in this story. I think that's all! If you have anything you're confused about, don't hesitate to tell me about it in the comments!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

"Take it off," the Prince hissed, shooting up to his feet and stepping closer to Chanyeol, features broadening with bafflement as he stared at the iron ring on Chanyeol’s finger. "Can’t you see it’s hurting you?"

 

Chanyeol let out a dry laugh at that. He could both see and feel that the iron was hurting him. The nausea, the dizziness, the weakness soaring through his entire body, and the stench of burnt skin. It wasn’t as bad as the _sight_ of his burnt skin.

 

Silently, he shook his head and pushed his hand back inside his glove, covering the sickness on his skin.

 

The Queen coughed a rattly sound but when Chanyeol looked away from the incomprehension on the Prince’s face and looked at her instead, her smile dug fissures through her entire face.

 

"I see Cinereusians aren’t immune to iron, after all." Another cough. A laugh, Chanyeol supposed. That was what all her laughs sounded like. "Despite making it part of your lives, you’re still helpless against its noxiousness. Just like us. You’re no better," she said, hand trembling when she raised it to pull a strand of silver hair out of her mouth. Chanyeol wasn’t sure whether the shakiness was a result of the illness or the jubilation she didn’t even bother to conceal.

 

"It’s our King’s will," Chanyeol steadily replied, despite the unpleasant grasp the ill woman’s words had on him. The obvious disdain and derision was something Chanyeol was used to hearing only from his own people when addressing Rufus Aureus. It was a tad irritating to experience the contrary. "He demanded his knights wear it."

 

He dropped his hands to his side after adjusting the glove around his fingers, the sting of fabric pulling on skin now something he was accustomed to and could bear.

 

"What kind of king would willingly hurt his subjects, his knights, like that?" the Prince asked but Chanyeol could sense from the febrility of his voice and the downwards tug of most of his features, his eyebrows, his eyes, the corners of his lips, that he wasn’t expecting an answer. 

 

He was merely lamenting and Chanyeol narrowed his eyes, hand falling to his hip and then continuing its descent. There was no sword handle to hold onto.

 

"I don’t think it’s what my King truly wants. He wouldn’t harm us like that or in any other way," Chanyeol assured, tone honed into a warning. His gaze flickered between the two fairies in the room, one ill, and the other still looking at him with the insistent stare of a puzzled being. "As I said multiple times already, I think the Iron King is threatening him. He’s the only one who could’ve made him do this," he said gesturing towards the Queen with his sick hand, showing her once again the proof she had asked for.

 

"What you’re telling us is, you think it was not you King’s true will for you to wear this iron ring," the Prince said, eyebrows furrowed, red strands of hair not long enough to conceal the sharpness of his eyes, not a single trace of empathy or concern left in them. Chanyeol nodded. He wasn’t sure how many more times he’d have to repeat it for them to believe it. The Prince nodded back, one hand raising up to his waist to hold onto the fold of the ribbon keeping his robes together. "In that case, you can take the ring off."

 

"No," was Chanyeol’s immediate retort. His voice wasn’t a snap, wasn’t a whip into the air, it merely stood between him and the Prince as rigid as the border between two Kingdoms, that unseen line Chanyeol had sworn to protect with his life.

 

The Prince crossed his arms against his chest, one finger tapping on his arm, a quick cadence of impatience.

 

"You said it wasn’t really your King who asked you to wear it," he said, unwavering, head falling once towards Chanyeol’s hand in a nod but voice rising in defiance.

 

And Chanyeol couldn’t say anything. He was right, to some extent. But he also was completely, utterly wrong. What Chanyeol thought didn’t matter, what he felt didn’t hold any importance. All that counted was his King’s words and Chanyeol would act by them even if it dragged him to an ineluctable death.

 

He clenched his fist, moving his ringed hand so it would hide behind his thigh. The Prince followed the gesture with his gaze.

 

"Oh, for Glamour’s sake," the Queen lamented, hoisting herself on her shuddering arms as she tried to sit up. The Prince immediately strode back to the bed and assisted her, pulling her up much more efficiently. "Just tell us what happened and what led to you wearing this damned iron ring. No wonder you escaped so easily. It weakened the spells in the cell."

 

Chanyeol chose not to comment on how the very ring that was eating at his life had become an ally in that cell and linked his hands behind his back, waiting for the Queen to lean back against the pillows the Prince had fluffed up for her comfort.

 

"Everything was going fine. There was nothing unusual," he explained, shaking his head, twisting his mouth as he stopped. He hated having to report his own Ruler’s behavior to the enemy. He hated having to do this. He hoped with everything in him that this wouldn’t be something he’d regret. "Then, all of a sudden, after an Awakening, he called for a Highest Knights’ Gathering, and put small boxes in front of each of us. He made us open them and told us we’d have to wear the iron rings that were inside, then he tasked us with giving out more of them to every knight in the Kingdom."

 

"Did no one protest?" the Prince questioned but this time, he didn’t look utterly taken aback. He was frowning but he wasn’t looking at Chanyeol with judgement and condemning, there was no disgust or mockery in his eyes. It just felt like he was trying to understand. The queen remained silent, her eyes closed.

 

Chanyeol shook his head. "When a few knights protested, he just started lashing out at us. He had so much rage. He executed one of us on the spot and everyone else slid the rings on. Its effect was instantaneous. There might be traces of iron in our Kingdom, we might be less threatened by its presence than you are, but that doesn’t make us safe against it at all." The Queen snorted. Or perhaps it was another cough. Chanyeol had no doubt it was the first option. It didn’t make continuing his recounting of those events any easier. "He wanted to inject iron into us then, starting from the lowest ranked knights. I don’t know where that came from but he said we needed to immunize ourselves against iron. They all died soon after, poisoned."

 

"That’s not the way to immunize yourself," the Prince scoffed, frowning at Chanyeol who mirrored his expression, disliking his tone. It made him feel foolish and it wasn’t even his own actions they were talking about.

 

"There is no way to immunize yourself against iron," the Queen groaned before he could say anything. "We cannot change our nature. We aren’t made for iron, we aren’t made to coexist with iron, and nothing will ever change that. Iron will slowly poison you, it will kill you. It has always been lethal for every single magical being in Reveries and it will forever remain as such."

 

Chanyeol brought his hands in front of him, left fingers feeling the bump under the fabric shrouding his right hand. He looked down at the Queen’s own hands, at the burnt, wrinkled skin ravaging up her wrist.

 

"And that is why I’m trying to convince you that it isn’t the King’s own will, Your Enchantment."

 

"I don’t think the Iron King would do such thing," she dismissed him with a gesture of her hand, so frail it could’ve been missed had Chanyeol blinked at that moment. Chanyeol looked at her despite the sear of the Prince’s gaze on his face. "There is indeed a new King at Piceus and we know nothing about him, but the pact still stands."

 

"Mother," the Prince called and this time, his tone was much more different than when he’d asked about her health when they’d first stepped into the room. "The pact is nothing but a parchment signed with Glamour and a stamp. It cannot stop greed and invasion," he argued with wild gestures towards the Queen who looked at him through the dullness of her gaze.

 

"The Prince is right, Your Enchantment," Chanyeol agreed, reminded that the Prince had been the only person in a place swarming with enemies to listen to him and help him reach his destination. He didn’t smile at Chanyeol when he looked at him, but Rufus Aureusians were always so easy to read, it wasn’t difficult to catch the gratefulness in the way the corners of his lips twitched. "A pact won’t stop the Iron King from invading us and I fear he’s already started doing it. This is a whole other kind of invasion, he’s defeating Cinereus from the inside."

 

"I fear that is your own loyalty speaking, knight," the Queen shut him down, visibly a bit too quickly. She coughed for a moment, eyes closing, face scrunching, and her hand spasming when she put it against her mouth. 

 

She caught her breath in a long, noisy inhale, but the vacancy in her eyes didn’t crackle one bit. 

 

"Your king has gone mad." The rustiness of her voice screeched into Chanyeol’s ears unpleasantly enough for him to clench his fists by his side. Iron dug dipped into burnt skin and jolted pain through the entire right side of his body. "He was always fearful and foolish but the paranoia finally took over him, it seems. There is no invasion, your king is just harming his own people out of a greed to become human. Your people have always done anything to force iron into your lives. This isn’t any different."

 

It would be rude to cut off a royalty as they spoke so Chanyeol gritted his teeth and listened to her foolish words silently but as soon as she was done speaking, he stepped forward and finally gave her the reply she deserved for soiling his King in such a despicable way.

 

"What you’re saying doesn’t make any—"

 

"If you’re scared of going back to your Kingdom," she cut him off with that squeaky, cranky voice of hers, as if Chanyeol hadn’t even spoken. He pressed his lips together to force himself into silence. He was in enemy territory. "You’re welcome to stay in our castle for a short while. We never turn down guests, I’ll allow you to spend some time here but not infinitely. Borders exist for a reason. You’ll have to go back to your home at some point."

 

The humiliation her words struck against his face was a sting itching under his skin. He’d have to claw his face off to forget that sensation. The mockery hidden in the wheezes scattered through her voice, the deprecation bursting in every single one of her words, and the belittlement clear in the way she kept her eyes closed as she spoke. Chanyeol wasn’t even worth looking at, for her. Cinereus wasn’t even worth saving, for her.

 

He should thank her for her welcome. That was the only thing she had offered him. It would be proper etiquette to show a semblance of gratefulness. But Chanyeol had a feeling everything he was trying to bite down would come out discharging right into her face if he opened his mouth. If he had enough strength left in him, he’d summon his sword and personally carve into her shriveled body every single one of the answers he couldn’t give her.

 

But he couldn’t do that. He was alone, outnumbered. 

 

He tilted his head down after glancing at the Prince and catching the desolated tug of his eyebrows. He curtsied to the Queen, barely even feeling the pain quaking through his body when the anger rigidified every single one of his limbs. He ought to take his iron ring out and make her eat it. She wouldn’t last. 

 

But his King had ordered him to wear. He wouldn’t take it off.

 

"Thank you for your kindness," he muttered, enough slur for her to figure out he was displeased but enough clarity for her to be unable to find insincerity in his stance.

 

Without waiting for an answer, a look, or a dismissal, he turned around, pulled the door open in a brusque movement, got out, and closed it with a little more care. The breath he exhaled longly through his nose burnt his nostrils.

 

He let go of the handle and started walking away from the Queen’s chambers. The door opened again behind him but he didn’t turn around, didn’t stop, despising every step he took in the damned castle of a damned enemy.

 

"Wait," someone called out behind him and he despised even more how easy it was to recognize the Prince’s voice.

 

Chanyeol stopped his quest of walking as fast as he could and turned around instead, raising an eyebrow. He might hate these Rufus Aureusians and their tendency to think they were better than everyone else, but he wasn’t an ungrateful prick. The Prince had helped him, had been just a little more pleasant to him than his mother. Even now, he was smiling at Chanyeol while striding towards him. Moreover, Chanyeol had nowhere to go anyway, walking fast with no destination to meet at the end was a battle he’d be foolish to pursue.

 

When the Prince stood in front of him, his smile was no longer there. In its place, a downward pull dominated his face, tucking the corners of his lips down. The bronze sparkles at the corners of his eyes were more eye-catching than any other trinket decorating the hallway there were standing in.

 

"I’m sorry," he said, tilting his head down for a moment, before looking back up at Chanyeol. Bronze not strong enough to overshadow the sincerity gleaming golden in his gaze. "The Queen was a bit harsh on you back there. She doesn’t mean any harm, she just wants to protect our Kingdom. I don’t approve of the ways she addressed you and your king, however. I apologize in her stead."

 

Chanyeol studied him. He said nothing. Just looked at him, at the way he had to tilt his head up a bit to look at Chanyeol, at the lack of deception in his expression, at the way his hands were linked in front of him, the large sleeves of his robes letting only the tip of his fingers peek through. Chanyeol studied him but still couldn’t understand him.

 

"What kind of prince apologizes for something he hasn’t even done?" was the only thing he could find in reply to the Prince’s apology. Never before had he been in the receiving end of an apology from royal blood. He had no idea what one was supposed to answer to these words.

 

It hadn’t been the wrong thing to say, perhaps. The Prince let out a dulcet laugh, just a rush of air and a tremble of his shoulders. The rainbow glistening on the bubble of his earring brushed the  skin of his neck when he tilted his head.

 

"A good prince who puts others’ well-being above his own pride," he replied, not boasting, surprisingly still not mocking Chanyeol. It was an answer to a question, nothing more, nothing less.

 

Chanyeol couldn’t really figure out what he was doing. His King had formed his knights not to apologize for doing something under his orders. His King never even apologized when committing mistakes. Because there was never any mistake to begin with, for Cinereus’ Ruler.

 

"I can even thank you for your god intentions towards our Kingdom," the Prince continued when Chanyeol didn’t say anything, grinning, this time. Still no negative or harmful reflection in that action. Just amusement. "It was really honorable of you to come here and warn us of Piceus’ doings, even if your foremost motivation was the wellbeing of your own Kingdom. Thank you," he said, voice as delicate and colorful as the dreamy jewelry he wore on his ears. "Your room is ready for you to rest in for as long as you want. You just have to follow the trail," he said, gesturing down when Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows.

 

He looked down at his feet, looked up at the Prince again with suspicion when there was nothing to see.

 

"That gesture meant you should look behind you," the Prince snorted, triggering Chanyeol into snorting right back at him.

 

"You seem to be bad at gestures and their meaning," he couldn’t help but say while he turned around to look behind him, surprised to find something to actually see. He had expected the Prince to be playing around with him but on the rosy marble of the floor, a trail that sparkled in shifting colors of the rainbow twinkled at Chanyeol, spreading from right in front of his feet, to the corner of the hallway. It seemed to follow the shape of the hallway, taking a left turn along the corner and continuing its path. Pixie dust. He turned back to face the Prince. "How did you—"

 

He cut himself off at the sight of a pixie landing to sit on the Prince’s shoulder. It was the same one as earlier, with his honey-toned clothes and pouty lips that judged Chanyeol.

 

"I didn’t want you to get lost in the castle so I asked him to get people to prepare your room and trace the trail towards it,"  the Prince still answered Chanyeol’s unformulated question, raising his hand to pat the pixie’s brown, bouncy mop of hair with the tip of a finger.

 

That meant he had predicted Chanyeol would be staying here. Or at least, that he would be invited to stay here.

 

"Well, thank you for your kindness and I apologize for the convenience my presence has cost you," he said, and without questioning anything, he turned around and dragged his tired body to follow the trail on the floor. Now that he had stepped out of the tension in the Queen’s chambers, there was nothing left to numb out his body’s wails of pain.

 

"Wait," the Prince called out to him again after merely a few steps. 

 

Chanyeol sighed, stepped closer to the wall, and turned around. Just in case his legs would give out and he’d need to support himself on something. Hopefully, it wouldn’t happen while he stood in front of the Prince who still stood on the same spot Chanyeol had left him, the pixie playing with the bubble of his earring.

 

"Are you going to escape and go back to your Kingdom?" he asked, so directly Chanyeol was startled out of an answer for a few breaths.

 

He hadn’t thought about it yet. He could only think about how much he needed to lay his body down on any kind of surface and just slip into Slumber.

 

"I should," he still replied, fully aware that he _should_ go back to Cinereus.

 

"Don’t," the Prince said, voice transporting to Chanyeol clearly without him having to raise its volume despite the few steps distancing them. Chanyeol furrowed his eyebrows and the Prince smiled faintly. "Not now, at least."

 

"Why?" Chanyeol questioned, wanting to step back towards the Prince just to read this strange behavior better. But he was so exhausted.

 

"There is a Ball tomorrow. I think you should at least stay for that, since you’re here anyway."

 

It wasn’t an order, nor a demand. It didn’t really feel like a suggestion either. The Prince’s tone was too grave for that.

 

Chanyeol wasn’t sure what this invitation held but he turned around and followed the trail to his room without a reply. What an odd Prince.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Green eyes overshadowed by the exhaustion coloring the skin bellow them looked back at Chanyeol when he stood in front of something that wasn’t a mirror but that had acted like one as soon as he’d stepped in front of it.

 

He ruffled a hand through his wet hair, and wished they’d dried back to their usual light brown color already. He didn’t like staying with wet hair for too long, it was too bothersome and uncomfortable. He watched a drop of water drip from his hair and glide down his neck, blinking drowsily. He snapped himself out of it when the drop disappeared down his bare chest and pushed himself away from the reflective surface that switched back to a lifeless dark board as soon as he stepped away from it.

 

He got out of the bathroom and headed to the bedroom instead. There was a pile of clothes folded on a bed too big for Chanyeol. They’d given him a room decorated in obnoxious shades of yellow and red but at least, the clothes lent to him were of a bearable dark blue. Fortunately, there was no sparkles either when Chanyeol grabbed the shirt and raised it to his face for closer examination.

 

It couldn’t compare to his own clothes but a gnome had scoffed at him earlier while asking him to take them off so they could be washed. Chanyeol hoped the gnome tripped on his way out of the room, while he’d ran away from Chanyeol’s glare.

 

Body too heavy for him to carry, he let himself drop down on the bed, snorting when he bounced off it for a moment. Even their beds were merry and playful. He scrunched the shirt in his hands. The skin of his right hand was darker than the fabric, much more horrendous. The ring had rusted spots all around it already. He leaned to the bedside table, grabbed his gloves, and slid them on even if there was nothing around him that the iron could hurt. Besides him.

 

After washing up, his body was much cleaner but Chanyeol didn’t feel any less like a stain in this place. He didn’t fit in at all. It didn’t sadden him, just irritated him. He wanted to go back home. He should go back home.

 

He couldn’t go back home. Not after having ran from the Castle and fought his own knights on the way. He’d be beheaded for treason to the Crown as soon as he was spotted. He couldn’t go back unless he had the solution to the issues wrecking his Kingdom or at least, a help by his side.

 

Even though the prospect of being helped by people who disrespected his King with no hesitation left a sour taste in his mouth. He grabbed the shirt again and twisted it in his grip. That Queen was nearly not as sick as she deserved to be.

 

However, this Kingdom was the only ally he could get himself. They were enemies who had a common enemy. Chanyeol sighed, threw his head back and straightened up to stretch his back, wincing at the pain sizzling in his waist. 

 

He looked back down at the clothes given to him. He needed to convince them. He had to convince them. For his King.

 

He put the clothes on, relieved when the fit was perfect, left the towel at the end of the bed, and then laid down. He needed to gather enough strength again, he didn’t like feeling so weak and at the mercy of the first assailant who’d eye him.

 

The pillows were puffy and comfortable but Chanyeol’s bones popped and cracked as he stretched himself on the mattress. Slowly, tension bled out of his body and, after a moment, he drifted into slumber.

 

When he awakened again, it was with tension scrunching his entire face, a frown so deep it felt like his headache was bouncing on it over and over again.

 

He opened his eyes, blinked the blurriness away so many times it made him dizzy, and then stared at the movement behind the window. He blinked again and a glittery wing fluttered once before disappearing. He closed his eyes for a while, trying to sense his Glamour first and foremost. He could feel only tiny sparks of magic inside of him and while it was a worryingly small quantity, it was still much better than when he’d escaped from the cell. He cut off his connection with his magic and sat up to feel for any broken bone in his body. No acute sensation of pain anywhere, only soreness in his arms and on his back.

 

His legs wobbled a little when he got up and for a moment, it felt like objects were flying all around him. He supported himself on the wall, closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the floor was steady under his feet. A throbbing ring around his right ankle. No nausea, at the very least. Just discomfort and a burn in his hand. Distasteful but not unusual.

 

With slow but loud steps, he walked to the window and slid it open, taking a deep breath of stained air in. Too many flower scents, too much Glamour. He missed home. Cinereusians had a much weaker link to Glamour, it was next to impossible to actually feel any kind of magic in the streets, most of it killed by the presence of iron. Chanyeol hadn’t used Glamour in hundreds of Suns. He had none of it left in him besides the bare minimum of it necessary to summon his sword. 

 

He didn’t linger at the window for long, stepping back with steps that were just as noisy and then, quietly pressing himself against the wall, right next to the window. Hidden from outside, he watched the opening and it only took a short moment for movement to peek inside. Chanyeol’s hand shot up and in a blur of yellow, iridescence, and brown, he caught the tiny creature by one of its wings and pulled it inside.

 

The pixie hissed at him, his tiny fists flying around and his yellow-clad legs trying to kick against Chanyeol’s wrist.

 

Chanyeol watched him squirm for a moment, holding onto his wing tightly despite the flutter of the other one against his fingers. It was quite amusing, a little ticklish. Had the pixie’s struggling and constant groaning not been feeding his headache, it would’ve been adorable.

 

Soon, the creature stopped moving, giving up and glaring at Chanyeol through its mussed hair. His lips were jutted out into another pout. He wondered if that was ascribed to all pixies or if this creature was just a particularly big ball of childishness.

 

"What are you doing here?" Chanyeol questioned once the creature put an end to his tantrum, holding the pixie closer to his face to study him, only to pull him away when he almost kicked his nose.

 

He tutted in warning and the tiny boy crossed his arms over his chest, holding his chin high.

 

"I’m in my home, I can do whatever I want, wherever I want."

 

Chanyeol was barely even surprised to find out that the pixie could speak and had just refused to utter a single word in his presence all along. Rufus Aureusians and their pettiness gigantic enough to be a tale to Humans.

 

"I’ll ignore that direct jab to my presence in a Kingdom that doesn’t welcome me if you tell me your name," he snorted, observing the intriguing wing he was holding onto. A shift between white, a very light green, and an even lighter pink. Iridescent and rather beautiful, he had to admit.

 

The pixie turned his head towards him again and the pout unraveled into a bright, big beam.

 

"Hi! I’m Nini," the pixie perked up, tiny hand waving at him energetically. Chanyeol raised an eyebrow at the sudden switch in temperament. "And you are?"

 

"I’m wondering if you’re watching me," Chanyeol retorted with much less merriment than the creature who frowned at him, putting both fists against his hips as he stared at Chanyeol with another glare. The switch to another mood was just as fascinating as it was frightening. It didn’t change the fact that he’d probably been watching Chanyeol for a while, perhaps at the orders of the Prince.

 

"No, I’m being held hostage by you so would you, please, let go of my precious wing now?"

 

With a laugh, Chanyeol granted Nini his freedom. Just because he had been entertaining enough to make him forget about his headache.

 

The pixie twirled once in the air, flapped his wings quickly while glancing at them over his shoulders, and then looked back at Chanyeol.

 

"I came here to tell you that dinner will be served soon," he informed him, blinking at him with big adorable eyes that gave Chanyeol the urge to throw him out of the window.

 

He didn’t. Instead, he adjusted his gloves over his hands.

 

"I’m not hungry," he said, turning to the window to slide it closed and prevent that flowery stench from watering his eyes for longer.

 

"But it’s an invitation," Nini argued, flying right in front of his nose and startling him into leaning back.

 

"That doesn’t make me more hungry," he said, turning away from the pixie and walking to the bed.

 

He had an idea who the invitation was from. The Prince really needed to hire himself better spies that didn’t spread pixie dust around with every bat of their wings. He also needed to be more discreet about wanting to keep Chanyeol here. He had no idea why it mattered so much to the Prince for him to stay, but it only made Chanyeol want to leave more.

 

Nini followed him around and then moved in front of his face to stop him once more. With a sigh, Chanyeol stood there and considered how badly it would affect two Kingdoms’ relationship if he were to gut one of their pixies.

 

"But it would be so impolite to turn down an invitation!" Nini said, features all scrunched up into worry. "It would be like an insult. You wouldn’t want to insult the Crown, right? Especially not now."

 

Chanyeol frowned. "What do you mean by especially not now?"

 

The pixie looked skywards for a moment and then huffed at him. "Just follow me to the dinning room," he demanded, turning around in a swirl of rainbow dust and then flying towards the door.

 

As much as he hated to admit it, the creature wasn’t wrong. Chanyeol wouldn’t want to anger the enemy in their own territory, therefore he silently followed him to the door, letting his reluctance drag his feet on the carpeted floor and his eyes stab the back of Nini’s head.

 

He stood behind the pixie when he hovered in front of the door for a moment, silent.

 

Slowly, he turned around, his earlier haughtiness crumbling into a sourly grumbling tight line on his lips.

 

"Would you mind opening the door for me?"

 

Chanyeol enjoyed the tiny victory in silence for a moment and then opened the door, slowly enough to savor his own satisfaction at the pixie’s unconcealed irritation.

 

When Nini flew off to the hallway, Chanyeol had to blink off the obnoxious dust thrown into his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Evening Dining Room was just as heavily ornamented as the rest of the castle. The color scheme was spread out between various shades of blue, deep and light, harmonious and fitting for an evening reigned by a sun shining brightly outside.

 

It didn’t reach the inside of the room, the light was caught by thick, royal blue curtains embroidered in silver threads that sew intricate figures over the fabric. The lack of light was made up for with candles scattered all around, on the dining table that stretched from one side of the room to the other, on the walls, on the vitrine that displayed various species of plants that Chanyeol supposed were of the rarest kind - he recognized none of them.

 

Amidst the candles growing out of the walls, were hung frames that displayed splashes of Glamour shining and moving around, captured. With the veil of darkness laid all over the room, Chanyeol thought he’d have a hard time distinguishing them but it seemed he’d forgotten how strong Glamour was. He’d be able to see these obnoxious and hideous frames even with his eyes closed. He’d never before been in the presence of such an enormous amount of Glamour. 

 

More than the eye-prickling decoration, however, Chanyeol stared at what was happening near the table where the Prince sat, alone and staring at the same thing as Chanyeol did. Two gnomes, servants, were arguing about what glass to give the Prince to drink out of. One of them was holding onto a slender flute and the other was waving a classy square glass around, shoving it into the other gnome’s face. Their raspy voices started gaining in volume and from where he stood on the threshold of the room, Chanyeol hoped to see a fight breaking out.

 

While street combat was widely spread in Cinereus, he had never seen two gnomes fight each other. How curious that his first experience of it might be located in Rufus Aureus, Kingdom of corniness and ear-shattering politeness. His grin widened when one of the gnomes raised his glass up, no doubt about to shatter it on the other’s head.

 

"Vip, Vap, that’s enough," the Prince called out then and Chanyeol sighed as his one possibility of entertainment was pried right out of his hands. He watched as the Prince leaned to grab both glasses with a faint frown. "I’ll use both, it’s fine. Just go. And don’t fight again," he warned them, pointing at them with the flute he was holding.

 

The gnomes nodded in silence, both calmed down and looking terribly, truly terribly sad when they turned around and walked towards the exit, head tilted down and cheeks sunken. Nothing more unappealing than sad gnomes. He stepped away from the door to make way for them and walked to the table instead, studying the Prince as he poured a white, creamy liquid that flashed in green when it landed in the thin glass, and then the square one. The Prince gulped down half of it by the time Chanyeol pulled the chair across from him and sat down.

 

"I didn’t know gnomes could even get angry here," Chanyeol replied to the Prince’s welcoming smile. "Especially gnomes that serve in the Castle."

 

"They’re usually not," the Prince shook his head, grabbing a knife and a fork from the few options laid out on either side of his plate. "Please, help yourself," he said, gesturing with his fork towards Chanyeol’s plate.

 

He looked down at it, studying the juicy purple of the steak surrounded by the pale blue assortment of vegetables Chanyeol had never seen before. He figured out from purple tint that he was served Grasseater meat but as for the vegetables, he had no idea what they were. He wasn’t that hungry but he still grabbed a fork and curiously pricked at the lumps of fluffy white balls surrounded by matchsticks that were orange enough to be identified as carrots, dices of a peachy pink, and weird curls. The table was lush with more kinds of food, seeds seasoned with spices in a bowl, smaller dishes of waterleaves, something that looked like a variation of it, and pearl-like beads.

 

"Thank you for your invitation to dinner," he said, concealing his reluctance. He’d rather be sleeping more. 

 

He supposed it wasn’t that bad, however, when the Prince smiled down at his food and shook his head in dismissal while cutting his meat. He wasn’t unpleasant to look at. He’d changed clothes but the dimmed yellow of his shirt suited him as much as the colors of his Kingdom. The sleeves were long but not enough to cover the smooth skin of his fingers as he held his knife with delicacy but enough strength to easily cut through the meat.

 

He seemed to be wearing some kind of cope, a dramatic touch of royalty in a beige, silky fabric that spread down his shoulders and his back from where it was clipped to the collar of his shirt with a pearly brooch. No other jewelry on him anymore, no pretty bubbles kissing his neck, but the pink and blue sparkling at Chanyeol on the Prince’s lids with every blink of his eyes made his gaze just as entrancing. Even if he wasn’t looking at Chanyeol who was the only one to stare at him for an uncalled-for amount of time.

 

Looking back down at his food, he picked at a fluffy piece of blue but despite it being unfamiliar to him and highly intriguing, he didn’t bring it to his mouth. He wouldn’t risk being poisoned. He supposed the sparkles weren’t part of the Prince’s own anatomy. The color and emplacement had changed from earlier. He pushed the vegetables around in his plate.

 

"Thank you for kindly accepting it," the Prince answered, smiling at Chanyeol as if he was unaware that Chanyeol didn’t even have much of a choice. Or perhaps he was smiling because he knew exactly that Chanyeol didn’t have much of a choice. The corners of his lips twitched as if they yearned for a bigger spread. Chanyeol planted his knife in his steak, cut a little into it just to keep himself busy. "I’m sorry you had to witness such unpleasant service, though. It seems everyone is under tension lately, even the servants. This isn’t the first time they’ve argued about trivial things."

 

"Things aren’t much different in Cinereus," Chanyeol remarked, now that he thought about it. Much more fights than usual, much more deaths, much more cases of swindling that impressed Chanyeol and everyone else. "There’s been a lot of tension there. I supposed everyone is a little thrown off by the fact that there’s a new King in a Kingdom made of iron creatures."

 

Even Chanyeol was put off by that fact. The prospect that far from here, but not far enough from here, was a Kingdom with creatures of iron bodies, no minds, born out of Humans’ dreams about technologies and industries, just like the rest of Reveries was born out of human fairy tales and the belief in magic. But there was nothing magic about Piceusians - just a rusty, hard shell that could burn Chanyeol’s entire existence into ashes if they came in contact for long enough.

 

"I suppose so," the Prince sighed, bringing a big piece of meat into his mouth and then taking a sip of his drink. 

 

His red hair was sleeked into a comma over his forehead but still looked just as silky as every leaf that had rained down on Chanyeol as he ran through this Kingdom for escape and imprisonment  alike. Chanyeol cut one of the fluffy white vegetables in two and was surprised to see that fine grey powder fell out of the gravity between the two halves. His astonishment must’ve flashed on his face, the Prince laughed a boisterous sound. Chanyeol hadn’t seen lots of royalties in his life but he knew most of them did everything with delicacy, especially laughing. This hadn’t been delicate, but it had been nice.

 

Chanyeol looked back down at his plate, continuing his observations as the Prince continued puffing his cheeks up with vegetables. He paid more efforts into managing his expression. He didn’t particularly enjoy being made fun of, although it didn’t feel as insulting as it could’ve. Not because he trusted the Prince not to mock him, just because he wasn’t used to royalty acting so freely, laughing loudly, playing with pixies an walking around with one of them sitting on their shoulder.

 

There was something different about him, about the Prince. A beauty so different from the cold, sculpted charms Chanyeol was used to seeing in Cinereus. Perhaps it wasn’t something about the Prince in particular but about all Rufus Aureusians. Perhaps it was just the headache that was coming back to Chanyeol.

 

"What’s your name?" the Prince asked after a moment of silence and when Chanyeol looked at him, he had put his utensils down, one elbow planted on the table and hand supporting his chin as he looked at Chanyeol fixedly.

 

He realized the Prince was most likely breaking table etiquette at the same moment he realized no one had asked for his name yet. Not even the Queen whom he had shared a quite lengthy conversation with. She’d called him nothing but _knight_. 

 

"Chan," he replied, happily putting his own fork and knife down. He had no use for them and observing the same food over and over again was getting uninteresting. 

 

Chanyeol’s gaze following the clean shape of the Prince’s  fingernails when his hand trailed from his cheek to his chin and then dropped down to grab his glass and bring up to his mouth to drink from it. It was empty when he put it down again.

 

"No," he said, a soft sound that still kept Chanyeol’s gaze on him. He couldn’t figure out why the Prince was staring at him instead of eating or why he was even asking for his name. "Give me your real name."

 

Chanyeol snorted and stared back at the Prince, not in defiance but in refusal to seem intimidated. That was the first thing Chanyeol had been taught. No matter how big or small your enemy was, never let your guard down and never, ever let them think you’re frightened. Chanyeol had also learned that the smallest of opponents could cause the biggest of wounds.

 

"That is my real name," Chanyeol assured just as calmly, trying to figure out whether that was the wrong answer by watching the candle flames darken a side of the Prince’s face.

 

Before he could figure anything out, the Prince stood up and left the table, cope flowing way too prettily behind him for it not to be Glamour’s deed. Chanyeol followed him with his gaze as he headed towards the velvety green couches lined along the wall, wondering if his answer had perhaps offended the Prince. Not that he had given an offensive answer, Chan really was his name.

 

"Perhaps you’d like to join me?" the Prince asked as he turned around, the glistening fabric of his cope following his movement in a refined lull in the air.

 

The cream color of the fabric complemented the Prince’s skin, giving it a lovely glow, while the golden embroilment at the very bottom of the cloth and on the hems of it, going down the prince’s chest and reaching just shy of the floor, dulled the yellow of his shirt even more. The cope was vast but it didn’t drown his figure in the least, it somehow made his legs look longer, made them look thinner but not skinny in the soft brown fabric they were snuggled into.

 

"I thought you were hungry," he questioned instead of answering.

 

The Prince shrugged. "It’s no fun eating alone." Chanyeol couldn’t help but notice the way his nose looked squished between the plumpness of his cheeks when he smiled big enough.

 

He just looked pretty. Chanyeol had seen a lot of pretty. But this pretty made him get up with no further interrogation and walk to the Prince just as he plopped down on the couch with a sigh. His hand reached to the glass on the small table separating the couch he sat on from the one next to it and he raised it towards Chanyeol once he was close enough.

 

"Wine me, please?" he asked, looking into Chanyeol’s eyes, holding onto the glass with fingers so dainty, they seemed sculpted just for the purpose of handling the most fragile and precious of glasses.

 

And Chanyeol found it sly, the way the Prince concealed an order beneath a polite formulation and a tone that wasn’t so much commending as it was alluring.

 

He grabbed the glass with a sigh loud enough for the Prince to laugh just as he stepped to the table, careful on his still throbbing foot. This was a Prince but it wasn’t a King. He didn’t hold enough power and risk for Chanyeol to conceal every trace of annoyance he might feel. 

 

"Pour yourself a glass too," he said and Chanyeol hadn’t even drank anything at the table but he still followed the order, putting the jug of clear rosy liquid back down with a loud thud once he was done.

 

He handed the Prince his glass without looking at him and then moved to sit at a respectable distance away from him. At least, the couch was comfortable. Although, the Prince turned to him then, folding a leg on he couch, the other planted on the floor, his back straight but the way he held himself anything but gracious. Chanyeol had never seen his King sit like that. It made him stare at the Prince dead on.

 

Their eyes met and Chanyeol wasn’t used to people even looking at him unless it was to strike at him. Knights were usually feared back in Cinereus, people avoided their eyes, and barely even talked to them unless addressed first, but the Prince was looking at him with no direct reason for it and Chanyeol felt odd. He felt ill-at-ease but he didn’t look away, studying the blue glittering on the Prince’s eyelids, not looking away even once the Prince dropped his gaze to his glass.

 

"Aren’t you going to drink?" he asked, gesturing to his glass with his own.

 

"Are you trying to poison me?" Chanyeol wondered and although it was a serious suspicion, the Prince laughed at it. His eyes narrowed when he laughed but he didn’t look away from his source of amusement, he didn’t look away from Chanyeol.

 

"I have the same drink," he said, swirling the liquid in his glass, voice as clear as the blue reflects of it. "You poured it yourself from the same jug."

 

Chanyeol remained quiet, watched as the Prince took a big sip, watched as he raised his eyebrows at him in challenge, watched as he perched his glass on his thigh, watched, watched, watched but still couldn’t figure out what the Prince was trying to do. Why he had called him here, why he was so intent on having a drink with him.

 

At least, the Prince was looking him with just as much attention. The intent with which he was being looked at made Chanyeol want to look back at him even harder. Not because he was nice to look at. Because this felt like a judgment - of something he couldn’t figure out.

 

"My name is Byun Baekhyun." The Prince overpowered the silence after a while, still not shattering the eye contact. "What is your name?"

 

Chanyeol watched him for a silent moment, until he decided that this was yet another failing attempt at unriddling just what was going on in this odd prince’s head.

 

"Why do you want to know my full name so much?" he directly asked, fingers tightening around the thin leg of his glass.

 

"Don’t you think it’s unfair?" the Prince asked, furrowing his eyebrows a little, not a single strand of his hair disrupted when he tilted his head. "We’re all the same. All I have above you is perhaps a stronger tie to Glamour and a better use of it and yet, while I’m allowed to keep my whole birth name, you’re only allowed to be called by one syllable of it."

 

That would’ve been a good enough explanation had the being providing it not been the Prince of Rufus Aureus. Chanyeol couldn’t see it in the peaceful, confident expression on the other’s face, but there must be something else. Another reason. Perhaps he needed Chanyeol’s name for a trick, an attack, a curse, anything.

 

"I’m not trying to pry your name out of you with bad intentions, I don’t intend to harm you," the Prince said when Chanyeol’s silence grew too stretched.

 

That didn’t sound sincere at all, to Chanyeol. He shook his head.

 

"My name is Chan. That is all, Your Enchantment," Chanyeol reaffirmed, unwavering but keeping a tone aloof enough not to offend the Prince. "Every being in Reveries is born with a full name given to them by parents but only keeps a syllable of it. Except for the Royal Family members." The Prince’s lips pressed into a tight line. "That’s the way things are. There is no need to break tradition or try to bend it."

 

"Aren’t you tired of that?" the Prince said and Chanyeol turned his head, unsure of what he was supposed to understand. Unsure of the reason behind such nonsensical words coming out of a prince’s mouth. He turned to put his glass down on the table and leaned a little closer to Chanyeol who didn’t move away, but still felt himself turning taut at the proximity. "Aren’t you tired of traditions that never shift but drag us down? Of traditions that claim you and I are enemies because of a war that ended before I was even born? Aren’t you tired of working for a King who keeps bickering with two other Rulers for a piece of Reveries like three starved goblins over a jug of unicorn tears?" 

 

Chanyeol followed the gesture of his hand and looked down at the glass he was holding. The liquid sloshed, flashed pink, and then blue. When he looked back up at the Prince, Chanyeol’s hands were squeezing the glass so hard, he could barely even feel them anymore.

 

"Are you implying that my King’s issues with other Kingdoms are nothing but petty bickering?" he managed to push out through the tension in his jaw. Seeing the Prince’s confident stature crumbling down through the silent part of his lips didn’t make the insult more bearable. 

 

Chanyeol shoved his glass into the Prince’s hands, liquid sloshing and spilling on both of their hands. The iron ring he wore squeezed Chanyeol’s finger painfully when he shot up to his feet and clenched his fists by his side. 

 

"Things might be all happy and trivial for you but for my Kingdom, there are a lot of things at stakes." His voice was nothing but a quiet hiss, a tremble that spoke of how hard he was trying not to lash out at the very being who had dared insult the Crown he served. Despite the quietude of it, the Prince seemed to notice the consequences of his words, he kept shaking his head, moving to put the glass down.

 

"That’s not what I—"

 

"Knights who sometimes die protecting the border," Chanyeol said, slicing right through his words, through his own skull when his voice grew louder and stronger, pounding in his own temples. "Creatures who live in deplorable conditions because your Kingdom ate half of ours and there’s not enough room for everyone. This isn’t just a petty battle between insignificant creatures and it’s such a pity that you, as the Prince of this Kingdom, would rather insult your enemy than admit your wrongdoings."

 

The Prince stood up, the fabric of his cope rippling messily behind him, this time. He stretched his hands out towards Chanyeol who took a step back.

 

"You’re misunderstanding—"

 

Chanyeol turned around, not bothering to listen to the Prince’s excuses, and preferring to stride towards the door instead. If he couldn’t silence whoever dared insult his King, he’d rather walk out even though his pride weighed down on him like shackles dragging him down by the feet.

 

He pressed a hand against the wall when he stepped out into the hallway and took a few steps that seemed to be much too quick for his still weakened body, closing his eyes for a moment when colors blurred out around him. He was wearing iron around his finger, slowly killing himself in the name of a war not even fought and yet, that prince could still call all of this _petty bickering._

 

Shaking his head, he straightened up and walked. His ears started whistling after a moment, as strident as the hiss of Crowlcrows, but he continued walking, pulling his hand away from the wall. He needed to lie down and rest. Just a little more. It wouldn’t take off the effects of the ring but it wouldn’t give it so much power over him. He needed to get to his bed. He needed to remember how to get to his bed. He opened his eyes and they widened but didn’t hold him back from bumping into a blurry form of greens and reds.

 

He stumbled back, ears screeching into his skull, muffled sounds petering out and then gaining in volume again.

 

"How dare you," was all he heard before another screech took over and everything fogged up again and he felt strong grips around his arms, twin forces pulling him back.

 

He threw his head down, back again, and when he opened his eyes it was the Crown Prince glowering at him, his cortege of servants standing behind him while two guards were holding onto Chanyeol.

 

"Threw him in a cell," the Crown Prince spat out angrily, features twisted into rage as a female fairy dusted off the fabric of his robes, on his chest. Colliding into a deranged Prince was the last thing Chanyeol needed. "That’s where his stay was initially supposed to take place anyway."

 

He was tired of these princes and their keen on putting down everyone from his Kingdom, especially his King. Chanyeol ripped himself out of one of the elves’ hold, the other still gripping at him tightly as he croaked a laugh at a prince who seemed unable to go around without a whole army of servants and guards accompanying him.

 

"Throw me in a cell if you wish," he snorted, looking right into a hideous gaze that not even the golden essence was enough to beautify. "I escaped once, I could do it again."

 

He could. Even now, he could. He just needed to summon his sword. He just needed the damned floor to stop escaping from under his feet.

 

Chanyeol pushed away the second elf just as the first grabbed onto his arm again and he struggled harder, squirming and pushing and pulling and groaning in rage when a third and then  fourth guard held onto him to stabilize him.

 

"I changed my mind," the Crown Prince said with a vicious twist of his lips that Chanyeol had never before seen on a Rufus Aureusian, but that he didn’t deem unfitting. "Guards, I order the execution of this knight for injure to the Crown."

 

Chanyeol laughed. He laughed, pushed one of the guards away by crashing his shoulder against his. He just needed his sword. Hands grabbed onto his chest again, he shook his head, his body was shaken, pressure falling on his head and pushing.

 

The wail of a sword, the whistle of another order, the grip of hands he could’ve already sliced off had it not been for the iron cutting off his strength.

 

He just needed his sword. Only that. Chanyeol’s whole body reverberated with a strike of pain when his knees crashed on the floor and his foot was twisted too uncomfortably for a bone barely even healed.

 

He just needed his sword. A shadow approached him, he looked up and the halo of magic reflected in the wooden blade blinded him.

 

He just needed his sword.

 

Chanyeol closed his eyes, dug deep inside of himself, and was entrapped in a nebulous cluster darkening everything else.


	3. Chapter 3

In the darkness that iron dug inside of him, all Chanyeol could see was the striking wintriness of his Glamour, a magic that was so frail yet glared at Chanyeol with every flicker buried deep in him.

 

He could almost feel the threatening hover of the sword above him. He could feel his chest heaving. Could feel his knees sliding on the floor, his body slumped towards the floor. But he wasn’t moving. It was just the nausea, the dizziness. He wasn’t moving, he was held in place, on his knees, back straight, foreign fingers digging into his arms. He just needed his sword. He needed to summon it. He needed to fight back and save himself.

 

His eyes hurt. He was squeezing them shut too hard. But he needed it. It made it easier to see the streaks of blue whipping behind his eyelids. He tried grabbing them, tried gathering his mind into that single spot of dazzling flashes, tried, tried, tried, cut his breath of, clenched his teeth, tried, tried, tried, and wrapped his mind around the Glamour, a hiss of pain escaping him.

 

He opened his eyes, shooting his gaze right into the Crown Prince’s satisfied one as a gleam of light reflected off the guard’s sword and sliced through the sly curvature of lips. Chanyeol took a deep breath in, and forced a little, his fingers twisting painfully with the Glamour gathering around them. He raised his gaze to the guard, to the pale fingers wrapped around the handle of his sword, to the pair of hand that would be his sword’s first target.

 

In a blur of movements, something struck the guard’s wrist. It didn’t slice it off, didn’t make the sword tumble on the ground along with a pair of hands. It clamped around a wrist and raised the weapon up. It wasn’t Chanyeol’s sword.

 

His Glamour flickered off way too easily, blown off by the ripple of cream colored fabric. His gaze tumbled down to darkness just as he hiccuped a stubborn breath that refused to feed his lungs with air. He had tired himself out. He blinked twice but the Prince was still standing in front of him, hand still wrapped around the guard’s wrist.

 

"Lower your sword," he commanded, eyelids still glittering in pink and blue hues, but the anger elevating from his voice outshining anything else.

 

Chanyeol had no idea how far he was from the Evening Dinner Room but it must’ve been quite a distance away from where they all were now. The Prince’s chest was heaving, discreetly but not enough for it to go unnoticed. He had rushed here.

 

"But Your Enchantment," the guard hesitated, standing still like everyone else, including Chanyeol.

 

"I demand you to lower your sword, guard," the Prince repeated, voice carrying up stronger around them, broadening as his eyes narrowed. He turned towards the three other guards holding Chanyeol down. "Step back. Let our guest go."

 

The guards who’d been holding him until then let go of him and Chanyeol slumped forward, the last of his energy sucked out by his attempt at drawing out his Glamour. His hands crashed on the floor to hold the rest of his body up and when he raised his gaze again after taking a moment to gather himself up, the guards had all stepped away. The elf who’d been tasked with executing Chanyeol faded his sword and only the Prince kept his head and his stature up against the glowering Crown Prince.

 

"Baekhyun," he said through the clench of his teeth, a quietude that echoed anger into the entire hallway.

 

Chanyeol should stand up, should most probably leave this argument, this hallway, this castle. But he was bound here. By his service to Cinereus and the weakness still refusing to give him the reigns over his own body.

 

"Why do you make others carry out the decision you take, Baekbom?" the Prince said, serenity straightening his shoulders when he crossed is arms against his chest and assessed the Crown Prince.

 

"What are you saying?" the Crown Prince scoffed after a moment of silence. His anger couldn’t overtake how taken aback he seemed by the Prince’s intervention. 

 

Chanyeol, on the other hand, was forced to bite down on his surprise. Were he strong enough, he would’ve stood up and taken a good look at the Prince’s features to make out the reason behind his intervention. After receiving such a harsh reaction to his insults from Chanyeol, it made little to no sense for him to be here, standing between Chanyeol and his brother.

 

He hadn’t saved Chanyeol. Chanyeol could’ve saved himself, would’ve saved himself even without his help, his sword never failed him in times of need, but this was an attempt at saving Chanyeol, nonetheless. At protecting the life the Crown Prince had wanted to take. And it was difficult to grasp the meaning of this action.

 

"This execution," the Prince explained, one of his hand falling to gesture at Chanyeol while he turned to look at him over his shoulder. Their eyes met but there was no pity, triumph, or satisfaction to welcome Chanyeol. It made it even harder to understand this. The Prince turned back to his brother, voice not losing one bit of its assurance and disapproval. "This decision. Don’t call a decision if you can’t carry it out with your own hands. That’s the first thing we were both taught."

 

"I can carry it out," the Crown Prince retorted, with the speed of a childish troll arguing with a  drunken one. "And I will. Hand me a sword," he ordered, looking at the guard who stood next to him with enough rage to make him flinch.

 

The elf’s widened gaze flickered between the two princes, his mouth open but muted by uncertainty. The Crown Prince held his hand out and nodded towards it with a sharp, insisting movement. It was only then that Chanyeol noticed how similar his conduct was to his own King. Although, he had never felt any kind of murderous urges towards his King whereas he already had three different means to kill the Crown Prince laid out in his head.

 

"You will do no such thing," the Prince opposed him before Chanyeol could carry out any of those options. 

 

Another scoff, this one twisted the Crown Prince’s features into a grimace full of malice and imperiousness.

 

Chanyeol straightened, still remaining on his knees on the floor. Not out of weakness, the pain numbing his body was already petering out, but out of respect. Stepping between two conversing members of any royal family was considered one of the worst insults. He remained there, watched, clenched his hands to contain his anger in the palms of his hands instead of allowing it to ravage him whole. Observing the outrage spreading on the Crown Prince’s face almost comically made it easier.

 

"I am the Crown Prince," he announced, straightening his back and raising his chin high, flaunting each of those words. "Who will stop me? You?" he snorted, sizing the Prince up.

 

Chanyeol couldn’t see the Prince’s features but he saw him shifting his weight on his legs. He’d never had the impression that there was some kind of discord between them, Chanyeol hadn’t heard the Prince speak ill of his brother so far, hadn’t been given the impression that he nurtured bad intentions towards the Crown Prince, but the way the latter looked at him at the moment was anything but complimenting or loving. It seemed too strongly negative, even though they were in the midst of an argument.

 

"You are the Crown Prince, indeed," the Prince said, sounding at ease. "Executions can only be called by the King or the Queen. You’re neither. You’re the Crown Prince."

 

This was the second time the Crown Prince had to be reminded of the limit of his powers. The second time he’d call for a decision attributed only to the Ruler of the Kingdom. It had happened before, when he’d demanded Chanyeol be sent back to his cell and demanded the Council gathered to take a decision concerning his presence in Rufus Aureus.

 

With a silent snort that swayed him to the left, Chanyeol noted that even Rufus Aureusians could be greedy creatures.

 

"Mother is on her death bed," the Crown Prince retorted, at last lowering the hand that he had asked for a sword with. Chanyeol wished he could chop those clenched fists off the rest of his arms.

 

"But she’s not dead yet," the Prince answered and for the first time, Chanyeol heard him lose his calm. It was almost indistinguishable but the way his voice lowered to a quick hiss at the end of his sentence wasn’t insignificant.

 

The Crown Prince let out a sound of displeasure and raised his hand again, pointing at Chanyeol.

 

"He pushed me," was all he said, pettiness opening his eyes wide, giving him a crazed edge Chanyeol wished he could hone his sword against. This creature was much more childish than his King would ever be. He should cut his own head off for assimilating him to his King for even that split moment.

 

"And you think that’s enough reason to cut his head off?" the Prince scoffed. First sign of annoyance. Chanyeol enjoyed this, if he couldn’t kill the Crown Prince, he’d be just as satisfied with watching his own bother do it. Before that could happen, however, the Prince sighed and stepped closer to his brother. "You cannot kill someone at the slightest impulse. A king should be merciful and level-headed."

 

Chanyeol expected those words to trigger a flood of rage from the Crown Prince but instead of arguing, or doing something worse, he merely groaned in another display of childishness and bumped his shoulder against the Prince’s as he stepped past him. Without sparing a single glance at Chanyeol, he continued in his original path and rounded the corner of the hallway. Like a loud, disorganized army, his cortege of servants and guards scrambled to follow him, after a short-lived moment of blankness.

 

Only once he couldn’t hear any footsteps scampering away anymore, did Chanyeol break down the tension in his body and close his eyes. He wasn’t dizzy anymore, his stomach wasn’t shredding itself anymore, but he was still tired. He opened his eyes and looked at his right hand. He couldn’t see the ring beneath the glove but he could feel it, feel how much of an inconvenience and a threat it was. He’d gotten himself in this situation because the ring was messing with him in the first place.

 

A hand slipped in front of him, covering the sight of his fingers squeezing his other hand. He looked up at the polished shape of the Prince’s fingertips, at the neat cut of his nails, the slenderness of his digits, the softness of the lines traced on his palm, and then raised his gaze to his face. Chanyeol didn’t feel ill anymore, nor on the bring of unconsciousness, but as his gaze laid on the Prince’s face, the glimmers on his eyelids, the beam of his smile were a bit too strong for him. They blurred his mind for a moment.

 

He collected himself quickly enough and pressed a hand against the ground instead of into the Prince’s open palm. He pushed himself up to his feet on his own and the Prince’s hand dropped just as Chanyeol took a relieved, deep breath in. He felt better. It was gone now, he was back to himself. Just a little better.

 

"I just saved your life and you still don’t trust me?" the Prince said, standing in front of him, the façade he’d displayed against the Crown Prince swept away by the breezy smile he offered Chanyeol. A little bit of amusement shaped his lips.

 

Chanyeol could barely focus on him, giving most of his attention to his body. He blinked, the fogginess in his gaze easily dissipating but the remnants of it still stubbornly occupying his mind. Not enough for him not to frown at the Prince with incomprehension.

 

"Why did you do it?" he asked, taking a step back once he noticed that they were standing a bit too close.

 

The Prince didn’t move, only tilted his head to the side. Not a single strand of hair moved on his head. He still looked just as sleek as he’d been when holding out a glass of Unicorn Tears to Chanyeol. Right before insulting not only his King, but all three Rulers of Reveries.

 

"Do what?" he questioned, gaze narrowing a little as he trailed it over Chanyeol. He was certain that his appearance was not fit to be assessed by a Prince. 

 

He was probably sweaty, most likely pale. Long strands of hair stuck to his cheeks, fell in front of his eyes. He didn’t move them away, didn’t move a single limb. He had to understand this, the reasons behind the Prince’s behavior.

 

"Save me," he replied, although that wasn’t entirely true. The Prince hadn’t saved Chanyeol. Chanyeol had just let him save him. He could’ve done it on his own, would’ve done it on his own had the Prince not appeared but the he smiled at him so proudly, it wasn’t difficult to figure out he had no idea his heroism hadn’t been vital to Chanyeol. "Why did you do it?"

 

"Must there be a reason?" he retorted, not a single waver of destabilization in his voice.

 

"No, it isn’t a must." He let his hand raise to his waist, and then ascend back down when the handle of his sword wasn’t there to support it. He wasn’t used to walking around without his sword. "But there is a reason, still. What is it?"

 

While he was perfectly aware of how merciful and how easily fooled Rufus Aureusians could be, this was a Prince standing in front of him. And so far, he hadn’t displayed any sign of foolishness that could lead Chanyeol to suppose this argument with the Crown Prince had been an act of kindness.

 

The way the Prince looked at him, not blank but not emotive, head still tilted but smile flowering a little more, was the confirmation Chanyeol needed.

 

"There is a reason," he then said, not taking Chanyeol aback but still surprising with this easy confession. "Follow me," was all he added to that before turning around.

 

The graceful elevation of his cope as he turned his back to Chanyeol before falling back down his backside pleasantly was almost obnoxious at this point. He had so much Glamour he could afford to waste it in keeping his clothing together.

 

The obnoxiousness was overshadowed by how curious Chanyeol found him. He couldn’t forget the affront to the Crown he served, the insult the Prince had directed to his King, but he couldn’t deny that he was intrigued by this turn of event. He watched the Prince continue walking without even turning once to check if he was being followed. That assurance was enough for Chanyeol to follow him, although he wasn’t sure whether he found it disdainful or admirable. An odd merge of both, perhaps.

 

He walked behind the Prince who still didn’t turn around to look at him and after engulfing into a hallway walled with real-looking, small-sized trees that formed a flat but dense forest on either side of them, they arrived in front of a door. Without a single word, the Prince opened it and gestured Chanyeol to go inside, no smile but no sign of hostility either in the clarity of his gaze.

 

Stepping in, Chanyeol observed the bedroom he had been led to. The Prince’s chambers. A gigantic bed that took up almost half of the room, a carpet that was but a small field of flowers, cut into half by a curvy path of a light brown but fluffy-looking consistence — cotton. 

 

Even in his bedroom, the Prince of Rufus Aureus grew flowers. This was his safe haven. The place he trusted most, the room in which he could have any conversation without fearing anyone hearing him. That was what it seemed like. That was what made Chanyeol turn to look at him with expectation. 

 

He couldn’t conjure what the Prince had brought him here to tell him but he didn’t seem in any kind of rush, closing the door behind him and stepping to the table lining the wall, much similar to the one back in the Queen’s chambers. Parchments, paper, books, bottles containing pastel-colored liquids, and a jug of Unicorn Tears. It seemed to be his favorite beverage.

 

"Should I offer you a glass or will you refuse it again in fear that I’d poison you?" he questioned, pressing a finger against the clear glassy top of the jug. The way he smiled, crooked and filled with jest, was enough for Chanyeol to figure out it wasn’t a real question.

 

"I think you already know the answer," was Chanyeol’s reply as he stood there, a carpet of flowers laid behind him and a Prince whose laughter twinkled like Bellflowers in front of him.

 

He couldn’t figure it out. That reason why the Prince had wanted to save him.

 

"I do," he said and Chanyeol expected him to pour himself a glass anyway but he didn’t. 

 

Instead, he laced his hands in front of him, rubbing the nail of his thumb against the pad of the other as he walked closer to Chanyeol. No more smiles, no more attentive looks. They stood in silence for a few breaths, Chanyeol’s louder than the Prince. The ring around his finger squeezed the air in his lungs.

 

"When you leave, I’d like you to take me along."

 

There was no hesitation, no stutter in the Prince’s voice. It wasn’t a demand. It was formulated as a request. A Prince who didn’t make demands was as unfamiliar to him as a Prince who wanted to leave his castle.

 

Back in Cinereus, the King hardly ever got out of the Castle. He hated it, said it was a bother. Too many people, too much greed for his attention, too much complaints, too uncomfortable.

 

"Take you where?" Chanyeol questioned, suffocating his incomprehension with a layer of neutrality. He hadn’t expected anything in particular but _this_ was the last thing he’d imagined would be asked of him.

 

"To Cinereus," he replied with no hesitation.

 

Chanyeol took a step closer. "And what would you do in Cinereus?" he questioned, voice lowered but suspicions flaring.

 

The Prince laughed, a silent, huffy sound accompanied by a glance away from Chanyeol.

 

"Nothing that requires you to get so defensive," he said, looking back at Chanyeol who said nothing but didn’t feel the slightest bit reassured by those words. He stared at him with insistence, trying to carve an answer out of the Prince with his gaze until he sighed and gave him one himself. "I can’t get out of the Kingdom on my own. I just need to you to get me out of here and then I’ll go my own path."

 

"To where?" Chanyeol asked again, unable to figure out what was the Prince’s plan.

 

A moment of hesitation. The first. "To Piceus," he said, voice quieter than a moment ago.

 

Chanyeol looked at him for a silent moment. The more he looked at him the less he understood him. A Rufus Aureusian prince expressing a desire to go to Piceus, a kingdom built of iron and infections. Chanyeol had one of them around his finger and he was already dying. That was what would happen eventually. He wouldn’t turn immune to the iron. No one would ever be immune to iron and it stepping into Piceus would be nothing but a death wish.

 

"What for?" he asked.

 

The hesitation vanished. "I want to stop the Iron King," he said, looking right into Chanyeol’s eyes.

 

The assurance in the Prince’s stance only made his words more absurd, less believable. Like a child taking on the role of a conqueror in a game that skipped the wars and the politics and went straight to coronations.

 

He truly had nothing to fear about this prince who knew nothing but flowers and empty ambitions.  

 

"You wouldn’t even survive an Awakening out of your castle and your flowers," he snorted, assessing the Prince, the stylish ruffle of his hair over his forehead, the lack of blemishes on his face, the Glamour carrying his clothes for him.

 

"That’s brave of you to say for someone who’s never seen me outside of my castle and my flowers," the Prince retorted, snapping Chanyeol’s gaze back up to his face.

 

A silent laugh escaped him, carried out by disbelief. He could hold a conversation, defend himself with words, Chanyeol would give him that, at least.

 

"I don’t need to see anything," Chanyeol said, his insides recoiling with sourness. Or perhaps it was the nausea again. "It isn’t difficult to figure out that someone who thinks Great Wars between the Three Kingdoms are petty battles would die out there. Easily."

 

It wouldn’t take much to kill him. Chanyeol could kill him now, if he so wanted. They were isolated in his chambers, there was no one around. He’d have time to behead him, clean his sword, and find a way out of the Castle by the time people noticed what happened. 

 

But he wouldn’t do it. Because this wasn’t what he was here for. Because with iron gripping him so hard, it wouldn’t be that easy.

 

The Prince sighed. He should punish Chanyeol for such daring and insulting words. That was what his King would’ve done if Chanyeol were to talk to him in such a careless way. Instead, this prince sighed and chewed his lower lip, the regret slanting his eyebrows dripping into every nook and corner of his face. This was exactly why this prince wouldn’t be able to stop anyone, especially not the Iron King.

 

"You’ve misunderstood me," he said, stepping closer to Chanyeol who tightened his lips into a line and looked at the flowers braided and hung onto the wall instead. Looking at him would make it harder not to sanction him. "I’m sorry. Please, accept my apologies."

 

Chanyeol guided his gaze back to him. He shouldn’t even be surprised to hear an apology and yet, he was.

 

"I’m not used to voicing those thoughts out to someone. I worded things awkwardly and very wrongly. I did not mean to call your Ruler, nor any battle he might’ve led, childish or petty." The earnestness in his gaze was much more eye-caching than the pink and blue highlighting the skin around it. "I know they’re not. I just meant to say that all these wars do us more harm than good, that we should come together instead of fighting but," he cut himself off, shook his head. "That doesn’t matter right now. I just hope you’ll accept my apologies. I didn’t meant it."

 

Chanyeol remained silent and focused all throughout the Prince’s speech, studying him for any sign of dishonesty or mockery. There was none. And Chanyeol should still not believe him, should still summon his sword and shove it into his guts. But he couldn’t.

 

For no other reason that the fact that throughout his service to King Song Kijeong of Cinereus, he’d seem him word things awkwardly, seen him in the midst of misunderstandings, seen him insult someone without meaning to. The only difference was that never before had Chanyeol seen a creature of royal blood apologize for their own words or actions.

 

He shook his head. He understood. He supposed he could give it to how young and foolish this prince was. He’d probably never spoken to anyone outside of this castle. That was probably why he even wanted Chanyeol to get him out of here in the first place. Chanyeol had also perhaps reacted too quickly without trying to hear the proper meaning in the words said to him back in the Evening Dining Room.

 

He was too tired not to understand him.

 

"Fine," he said, quick, chopped, a single syllable pronounced out of exhaustion. The Prince perked up, shoulders dropping their tension and smile offered to Chanyeol again. Such quick changes of moods. Chanyeol wasn’t used to so much smiling. It wore him out even more. "If you’re done talking to me, can I regain my chambers?" 

 

Without waiting for an authorization, he turned his back to the Prince and already headed towards the door. The comfort of an unfamiliar bed was calling to him.

 

"Wait," the Prince called out just as Chanyeol put his hand on the door’s handle. With a sigh, he turned around. "This means you refuse to take me out of here."

 

"It does," Chanyeol confirmed bluntly, not even taking the moment to think about it.

 

The Prince’s mouth parted, remained so for a moment, before he let out a laugh. That wasn’t the right reaction. Chanyeol had disrespected this prince too much already but instead of punishing Chanyeol, he still just laughed it off.

 

He almost looked pleased when he spoke again.

 

"In that case, you still owe me something for saving your life, don’t you?" he questioned, raising a confident eyebrow.

 

He didn’t. Chanyeol owed him nothing. He could’ve saved himself.

 

Keeping his hand on the handle for support, he stared at the Prince. With a carpet of flower at his feet, behind him, he looked frailer than he was.

 

"What do you want then?" Chanyeol questioned, not because he owed him his life but because even after a first request, Chanyeol couldn’t figure out what the Prince’s second request could be.

 

"I would really love it if you called me by my name."

 

This time too, there was no hesitation, no stutter. But this time, his voice had dipped lower and instead of a request, instead of a demand, it sounded like a wish.

 

This time too, Chanyeol had not imagined this would be asked of him.

 

"Why would you want that?" he asked, utterly confused. This made even less sense. A member of a royal family should be called by their title, with respect and honor, not by their birth name.

 

The Prince smiled, faint, faded. "I’m one of the very few people who’s allowed to carry my full birth name but only two people use it in the whole of Reveries. I’m Baekhyun to only two people. My mother and brother. Isn’t it sad?"

 

Chanyeol had never considered it that way. While he was prohibited from being called by nothing but a syllable of his name, royal members could carry their full name without anyone being allowed to pronounce it.

 

The Prince seemed to take it to heart, his eyes hadn’t been so attentive when he’d asked Chanyeol to get him out of the Castle.

 

"It would be disrespectful of me to call you by your name, Your Enchantment," he said, stressing the title.

 

When the Prince’s eyebrows twitched into a frown before unraveling instantly, Chanyeol knew it had been a childish, but good decision.

 

"Maybe I want to be disrespected, Chan," the Prince retorted with enough defiance for Chanyeol’s mouth to part but remain silent.

 

He looked satisfied by Chanyeol’s reaction, a corners of his lips tugged up towards the sparkles multiplying in his eyes.

 

Chanyeol had nothing to say. He had nothing to say to that. He turned towards the door and silently, he got out of the room. He closed the door behind him, kept his hand on the handle, and looked down. His shoulders quivered with a repressed laugh. He didn’t know what was at its source. Disbelief, amusement. Pleasance.

 

He looked ahead of himself, at the endlessly stretching hallway and the trees walling him on both sides. This castle was a mess. And there was no glittery trail on the floor to guide him this time. Perhaps this was a small revenge.

 

It took Chanyeol a surprisingly short walk around the Castle to locate his room. Fortunately, each hallway had a different theme and after walking through different hallways, he had ended up on the very recognizable corridor tapestried in sober colors. The nonsensical white patterns and curlicues on the black of the walls were probably the most _normal_ decoration Chanyeol had seen in the castle.

 

He entered his room, looked around and out of the window to make sure there was no intruding pixie, and then crashed down on his bed. He rested for a moment, raised his head and took the tie out of his hair when the bun dug into his skull irritatingly. He closed his eyes. He was tired. Much less than when he’d first arrived in the Castle, but still tired.

 

He dug deep inside of him again and was relieved to realize that his Glamour shined stronger than when he’d confronted the Prince. It wasn’t enough to summon his sword, he didn’t even need to try to know it, but perhaps it’d be enough to summon something else. He unlaced his hands and put them on the bed, along his body on either side. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath in, and squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body rigidifying. Not his entire body. He felt his hands trembling, his jaw clenching and unclenching under the exertion of the effort.

 

After a moment, when he tasted iron in his own mouth and sweat streaked down his temples, he felt something growing in his hands. He opened his eyes and pulled himself out of his own mind with a grunt, staring up at the ceiling and heaving too quickly and not fast enough at the same time.

 

He swallowed with another sound of discomfort and raised his hands above him, until he could see the iciness of his daggers flashing at him from the blades. His body felt just a little stronger now that he had weapons to protect himself with. He looked at his right hand. He longed for the times when he could summon his weapons in the blink of an eye. He wished he could take the ring off.

 

He dropped his hands on the mattress again just as he heard a bell pealing through the room, a lulling melody that went on for a few heavy breaths. Chanyeol sighed. The Slumber Sound. The Queen wanted to sleep and the whole Kingdom would go into slumber with her. 

 

It wasn’t that different from Cinereus. Everyone went to sleep when the Slumber Sound was rung throughout the whole Kingdom too. It was the only way to keep a trail on time. Humans measured it in days and nights, Reveries separated it into disordered and dissimilar Awakenings and Slumbers. 

 

This Awakening had ended. It felt shorter than the usual Awakenings back in Cinereus but there was nothing incomprehensible about that. It all depended on when each Ruler of the Kingdom felt like going into Slumber and it was different for each of them. This Awakening had ended and Chanyeol wasn’t closer to finding a way to stop the madness spreading in Cinereus.

 

Swallowing down the disappointment, he sat up and crawled up the bed, towards the pillows at the head of it. He slid his daggers under one of the pillows instead of fading them. He’d strap them to his clothes tomorrawakening, it would be much safer than having to summon them every time he needed them. He couldn’t risk failing to summon them in a time of need.

 

Chanyeol fluffed the already way too fluffy pillows and laid down. He didn’t know how long this Slumber would last but he needed it, he needed to heal his body in order to face an uncooperative queen, an impulsive crown prince, and an unpredictable young prince. He could still hear him requesting Chanyeol to take him out of the Kingdom. If he were to do that, the Queen would most likely have him executed for kidnapping him. What a foolish request. 

 

What a surprising second wish. A prince wishing a mere knight would call him by his name instead of his title.

 

The last thought in Chanyeol’s head as he drifted into slumber was how strange of a creature Byun Baekhyun was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol’s nose twitched, that single spasm in his face throwing him out of slumber. He brought a hand up to rub at the tip of his nose with the back of it, dropping it again and letting out a blend between a sigh and a groan. 

 

Raising his hands above his head, he stretched his arms and arched his back, another sound leaving him. He let his hands down for the second time and kept his eyes closed. The Awakening Sound had rang a while ago, indicating the start of a new Awakening but Chanyeol had slept through it, only managing to keep his eyes open for a few blinks before slumber devoured him again.

 

This time, he didn’t even try opening his eyes. He could still feel sleep weighing down on his body, could feel himself slipping back into slumber until his nose felt itchy again, a second twitch pulling at his features. He turned his head in silence, eyebrows furrowing, and tried to sleep some more. Before long, something scratched at his nose and Chanyeol turned his head back up towards the ceiling, eyes snapping open. The gesture seemed to have been quick enough to send Nini away from his face in a summersault into the air accompanied by a distressed sound.

 

With a groan, Chanyeol sat up, touching his nose to make sure the pixie hadn’t done anything to it.

 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he cursed, rubbing at his nose to get rid of the ghost of an itch.

 

Nini flew back towards him at once, one tiny hand pointing at him accusingly.

 

"You cannot curse like a Human here," he chided him, face scrunched up and tone a hiss that went along perfectly with his wings. Insect-like. Chanyeol wished he could swat him away or kill him as easily as a Beadywings buzzing in his ears.

 

But he could do no such thing so Chanyeol choked his voice into a higher pitch.

 

"For Glamour’s sake, what the fuck are you doing?" he corrected himself, mimicking the most despicable of Rufus Aureusians.

 

Nini didn’t seem satisfied, with no surprise, but Chanyeol thought he should feel fortunate to be Baekhyun’s seemingly favorite pixie. Chanyeol would’ve at least slapped him away if he hadn’t been.

 

"I was just checking what you were doing," the pixie grumbled in reluctance.

 

Chanyeol dropped his hand from his nose.

 

"I was obviously in slumber."

 

Nini scrunched his nose. Chanyeol had never found anyone so adorable and irritating at the same time. Not even Baekhyun.

 

"I could see that," he mumbled, crossing his arms and rising a bit higher in the air, so much that Chanyeol had to look up at him. "But you’d been in slumber for so long that I was just checking if you were dead."

 

Chanyeol brought a hand up and sleeked back the long strands falling in front of his eyes. "You didn’t have to get into my face to do that."

 

"Actually, I did," he retorted in a snort. "The Prince told me to check up on you. You see, I was poking your nose with my foot to make sure you were still alive. When he asks me to do something for him, I do it thoroughly."

 

His features spread into a proud grin that made Chanyeol snort. He seemed to love Baekhyun very much. Chanyeol hadn’t seen any pixie hovering around the Crown Prince yet alone playing with him in the gardens.

 

"How did you even get in here?" he asked, deciding not to get angry first thing in his Awakening. 

 

He gestured towards the door left ajar when Nini gave him a confused tilt of his head, a similar gesture to Baekhyun, perhaps a habit he had picked up from him. Or a habit Baekhyun had picked up from him. Either way, he remembered having to open the door for Nini yesterawakening because he couldn’t do it himself.

 

Nini looked down and his body followed his gaze until he landed on the bed, in front of Chanyeol.

 

"It took me a while to open the door on my own," he admitted, scratching the tip of his shoe against the mattress. Chanyeol’s nose twitched. He looked at Chanyeol again, simpering sweetly. "But the Prince told me to check on you so I did it for him!"

 

"How adorable," Chanyeol muttered, voice flattened by insincerity.

 

"Thank you!" Nini laughed, eyes mooning and mouth opening into a winsome grin.

 

Chanyeol sighed. "Well, I’m alive, as you can see. You can leave," he urged the other. This was way too much noise so early into his Awakening.

 

"I will!" Jongin heartily agreed, shooting up into the air. Chanyeol was relieved to see there was no pixie dust spreading anywhere. It seemed to be something pixies could control. "There’s so many things to do. We have to get ready for the Ball. It’s going to start later. You’ll be attending, right? The Prince wants you to attend. You’ll come, won’t you?"

 

Too many words, too quickly. Chanyeol recalled Baekhyun telling him to stay around at least until the Ball. He wasn’t sure how relevant his attendance was and why it mattered so much to him, but Chanyeol supposed he had no other choice now.

 

"Yes," he sighed, waving Nini off. "Yes, I will. Now can you please get out?" he urged the other and if he’d have to ask a third time, he wouldn’t do it with civilized words.

 

Fortunately, Nini seemed to be happy enough with his answer and waved at him energetically before twirling around and flying off to the door. Without a glance back at Chanyeol, he slid out, leaving the door ajar behind him.

 

Chanyeol groaned in irritation and rubbed his face before tucking a few strands of hair behind his ears. He sat there, on the bed, and took a moment to feel for his Glamour. His ankle didn’t hurt anymore when he twisted his foot, he was relieved that it had healed but concerned by the fact that it had taken an entire Slumber for it to happen when usually, it took a much shorter time. Though, he supposed he shouldn’t be concerned when the reason behind his body’s destabilization was obvious.

 

He stood up to check for dizziness, glad to feel no such impression. His body still seemed a little sluggish, a little tired, but it was much better than yesterawakening. He knew the tiredness in his bones wouldn’t vanish unless he took his ring off. He also knew the iron’s effects would only worsen with time.

 

Paying no mind to such thoughts, he grabbed the tie he’d left on the bedside table and headed to the bathroom. The black board showed him his reflection as soon as he stood in front of it and Chanyeol passed a hand through his hair, following a strand from the top to where it reached his collarbone. He looked better. He pursed his lips, observing his reflection, and then decided to put the tie around his right wrist instead of tying his hair. 

 

He washed his face, inevitably wetting some of his hair since it was loose, and then headed back out to the bedroom. The door was still ajar so he closed it before walking to the bed where he slid a hand under his pillows and retrieved his daggers. They hadn’t faded through his Slumber but if they had, Chanyeol wouldn’t have been surprised. He looked down at them for a moment before sliding one into the waistband of his slacks, making sure it wouldn’t fall from there by jumping in place for a bit and doing wide movements, twisting his torso. Once he was sure of its safety and reachability there, he pursed his lips and looked at the hair tie around his wrist.

 

He rolled his sleeve up, strapped the second dagger against the inner side of his forearm by tugging the tie up until it held the blade properly and flat against his skin. After making sure that it wouldn’t fall off by swinging his arm around and adjusting it more, he rolled his sleeve back down to cover it, checking if the tip of the handle could be seen against his wrist. It wasn’t the most comfortable option but it was concealed enough and wouldn’t hurt Chanyeol.

 

Once he was done, he looked around, at a room that wasn’t his, and then headed out, closing the door behind him. The hallway was empty as Chanyeol stood in front of his door for a moment, unsure as to what he was supposed to do. Baekhyun hadn’t called for him, this time. It was a relief. Chanyeol had no clue how to deal with someone who behaved so unconventionally.

 

Decided that he had nothing better to do than to explore the castle, he started walking. There wasn’t much to see that he hadn’t seen already but Chanyeol’s intent wasn’t to admire flashy decoration and tacky colors. He familiarized himself with the hallways, found his way back to his bedroom from different locations, spotted goblins coming in and out of doors that hid nothing but staircases. Tunnels, he supposed, for the servants to move around more easily and quickly.

 

He passed by a room filled with marshmallow furnitures, glanced into another room occupied by pixies who bounced on every single piece of furniture. He went down through the Retractee, a bit wary since he wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to trust a plant with his bodyweight. Nothing went wrong, however, and Chanyeol walked around more, through a hallway patterned in glowing stars - those five-tipped figures that Humans drew and called stars at least. Chanyeol had never seen a starry sky, there was nothing but the Moon and the Sun in Reveries and he’d never visited the Human Realm.

 

When he engulfed into a plain hallway, he figured that it led to the kitchens or to rooms reserved to the servants. He went back on his steps, choosing not to bother or scare off anyone even if the prospect was more tempting than anything else. Goblins who ran into him still scampered away as if Chanyeol wore threat as a coat on his shoulders.

 

He walked more, spotted the Castle’s exit, localized the best windows to jump out of in case of emergency, walked more and somehow, he ended up in a hallway that echoed with the clunk of swords combatting together. Instantly, Chanyeol perked up and quickened his pace. If a fight had broken, he’d watch. If it looked interesting enough, he’d participate and win and perhaps the Queen would reward him for breaking up a fight happening in the Castle.

 

The possibility vanished as soon as Chanyeol stood in front of the doorless room and looked inside. He could not feel a spark of disappointment, however, not when the sight given to his eyes was just as admirable.

 

It seemed like Chanyeol would never be able to predict Baekhyun’s thoughts, his actions, or his way of being and behaving. Granted it was on only yesterawakening that they’d met, Chanyeol had never foreseen Baekhyun taking part in a sword fight.

 

Although, this wasn’t a fight per se. There were two combatants, Baekhyun and an adversary, surrounded by three other elves who were silently watching them. There were weapons but Chanyeol couldn’t call them swords exactly, they weren’t wooden like the swords used by guards but pliant, thin sticks that seemed to be nothing but a peeled branch fixated into a handle. They were fighting but there was no real battle offered to Chanyeol’s eyes.

 

There was no thrill, no harsh movement, no ambush hidden in the attacks, no clash. Their swords touched and clunked feebly, Baekhyun swung his back and forth, his opponent always meeting his attacks with his own sword to block them. No stick-like blade touched skin or even came close to any body part. More than a combat, it looked like a dance practiced hundreds of times before.

 

And it was pleasant to watch. The focused expression on Baekhyun’s face, the slight furrow of his eyebrows, the tongue that came out to lick his lips from time to time, his wide and quick movements that lacked lethality but brimmed with grace and ease.

 

It was pleasant to watch but when Baekhyun was given the occasion to point his sword against his opponent’s throat and chose to step back to start the combat over instead of doing it, Chanyeol stepped in.

 

"You’ll never win in a fight if you train like this," he said, slowly walking further into the room.

 

His voice cut through the combat like a honed blade, pulling Baekhyun away from his opponent. Everyone turned to look at him and Chanyeol instantly sensed the scornful stare of every elf standing in the room. Save for Baekhyun.

 

The Prince slowly lowered his sword and raised an eyebrow at him. Chanyeol had expected yesterawakening’s conversations to adjust Baekhyun’s attitude a bit, to perhaps push him to stop acting so irritatingly kind with Chanyeol but the smile Baekhyun offered him was just as brilliant with jest as any of his other smiles.

 

"Why do you think so?" he asked, nodding once at his opponent who curtsied in quick a movement, stepping back.

 

"This isn’t proper training," Chanyeol said, gaze following the elves as they hurried out of the room and made sure not to come near him at all despite throwing him nasty glares on their way out.

 

He felt a slight pique of disappointment. He’d thought that perhaps he could engage into a sword fight too to awaken his body properly after all the pain and the numbness it had gone through.

 

Once everyone else was out of the room, Baekhyun stood in front of him.

 

"Why don’t you show me how proper training goes then?" he asked, it wasn’t a defiance but it wasn’t a request either.

 

It plainly looked like he genuinely wanted Chanyeol to show him what proper training was. It was foolish. Cinereusians knights’ training was harsh and merciless, many lost their lives while training alone and only the best, the surviving ones got to serve the King. Baekhyun didn’t seem to know that, or perhaps he merely didn’t care about it at all. Perhaps he knew that Chanyeol wouldn’t be able to hurt him at all, it would be too dangerous for him to harm the Prince.

 

Chanyeol didn’t think Baekhyun could be harmed either. It didn’t befit him. He had a hard time conjuring Baekhyun fighting for his life and collecting wounds. Baekhyun and his easy, gratifying smile, the expectation and confidence framing his expression, his ruffled red hair, the green fabric of his shirt that hugged his broad shoulders snuggly, the mole lost in the plumpness of his cheek.

 

He wasn’t wearing glitter on his eyes this time. His face was bare of any colorful dust but he didn’t look plain, still. He looked handsome. Too handsome to win a fight.

 

"You’ll regret it," Chanyeol said, voice low and slow, dragged by the way his gaze lingered on Baekhyun’s features. He disliked the prettiness. It was distracting, deceptive. This was a Rufus Aureusian prince, supposed to look despicable, not charming.

 

Baekhyun tilted his head, pressed his lips into a tight but wide smile. "I doubt it," he said, shaking his head. "Choose a weapon. You won’t fight with your own."

 

"Fine then," Chanyeol yielded, not surprised that the other didn’t trust him to fight with his own sword. He wiggled his fingers as warm up as he stepped closer to the wall.

 

It was entirely covered in little slots filled with different varieties of weapons. Long, thick, or double-edged swords were tucked amongst many of that stick-like sword Baekhyun was wielding. Daggers, moon-shaped, crooked, slanted, curvy. Arches and arrows were scattered amongst other various weapons Chanyeol had never seen before. Most of them were wooden.

 

"Please yourself," Baekhyun urged him and Chanyeol glanced at him once before grabbing the same sword as him.

 

He pressed a finger against the tip of it, where the stick curved into a tiny bead. It was obviously a training sword, made to render it impossible to hurt anyone while practicing but that didn’t excuse the lack of implication Chanyeol had seen earlier.

 

He pulled at the tip of his weapon, letting it go to see the faux blade spring back into place with a slight swing back and forth. He turned to Baekhyun then, walking to the center of the room where he already stood waiting for Chanyeol.

 

Without another word, Chanyeol placed himself at a comfortable distance away from Baekhyun and they both sharpened their stance. Chanyeol turned his body, one foot standing back and the other moving forward. Baekhyun did the same thing, raising his fingers off the handle before tightening his hold on it.

 

They nodded at each other and without further ado, they simultaneously threw themselves at each other. Chanyeol raised his sword up and struck down as soon as they were close enough but the attack had been an obvious move and Baekhyun countered it by holding his sword horizontally in front of his face, their blades clashing.

 

The stick blade of Baekhyun’s sword wasn’t large enough to conceal his grin and Chanyeol snorted at the celebration of such an easy counterattack before moving back and wielding his sword down again, targeting Baekhyun’s neck. 

 

With a single hand, Baekhyun met and stopped his attack again, blades clanking together before Chanyeol immediately let go of his weapon with one hand and led his sword to strike the opposite side. Baekhyun remained in his defensive stance, merely stopping Chanyeol’s attacks, his dives towards his shoulder, his opposite shoulder, his arm, his neck, his chest.

 

"Are you excited for the Ball?" Baekhyun asked just as Chanyeol threw his arm forward towards the opening in Baekhyun’s defense, targeting his face.

 

He twirled around just in time to avoid the attack and when his body faced Chanyeol again, it was with a strike of his blade towards Chanyeol’s chest.

 

He jumped back to avoid it but Baekhyun followed and swung towards his face again, missing when Chanyeol dropped down to the floor, twirling on one leg while he stretched the other out to target a hit to Baekhyun’s ankle. He jumped to avoid it and when he landed down again, he was holding his sword like a hammer that hit the ground when Chanyeol slid back to avoid the attack.

 

He got back up to his feet and laughed. He was good. He was handsome and knew how to wield a sword properly. Chanyeol had told himself that he would hold himself back on purpose in order not to hurt him but Baekhyun didn’t leave him the occasion to do that at all.

 

"I don’t know how you can hold a Ball in the midst of all this chaos," Chanyeol answered since he seemed to want to converse while fighting.

 

He attacked him with a series of slashes, left, right, left, right, down, back up as he moved forward and Baekhyun walked back. He blocked all his attacks and Chanyeol struck down harder, missing Baekhyun’s shoulder by a hair’s breadth.

 

"This kind of event is a good way to distract and reassure everyone," Baekhyun said, a little breathless now. But not tired. He looked at Chanyeol’s left shoulder but struck his right one instead, Chanyeol not falling for the trick and managing to block the attack on time. "Nothing will happen."

 

Their swords were slotted together at the handle as they stood close to each other, enough for Chanyeol to feel Baekhyun’s breath on his face. Oddly, he had expected him to be perfumed in flowers but he wasn’t. Or perhaps Chanyeol was too focused on watching the thrilled smile enlivening his face to sense any scent.

 

He twisted his arm, the tip of his sword grazing Baekhyun’s nose before he jumped back to avoid a poke and a defeat.

 

"You should always be alert still," Chanyeol said as he lurched at him, guiding his blade to his shoulder only to avoid Baekhyun’s attempt at blocking him and continuing a descent towards his leg.

 

Baekhyun was quick enough to jump back, stumbling a little and giving Chanyeol the chance to move forward with another attack.

 

"I’m always alert," he assured, proving it when he countered Chanyeol’s attack with one of his own, blades clashing. They pushed against each other, neither of them yielding until Baekhyun pulled abruptly. Chanyeol lost his footing for a split moment during which Baekhyun struck forward, alternating strikes towards various parts of his body. "It’s my last Ball here anyway, I should enjoy it," he said, word chopped by the clunks of their blades as Chanyeol walked back and blocked each attack.

 

It was only when their blades clashed and their handles nudged against each other again that Chanyeol processed Baekhyun’s words.

 

He guided his second hand to the handle, pushing back against Baekhyun harder once he had a better grip on his weapon. He heard the Prince groan but he didn’t budge under Chanyeol’s strength, pushing back just as hard. Chanyeol’s gaze was split by a strand of hair cutting through his face but he could see the effort on Baekhyun’s features faultlessly.

 

"Why is this your last Ball?" he questioned, words sounding more akin to grunts than sounds under the effort of holding his stance.

 

"I’m leaving tomorrawakening," Baekhyun easily replied, a groan at the end of his words as he pushed harder.

 

Chanyeol’s stance was bad, his feet were positioned wrongly, not far apart enough, and he was starting to feel destabilized. He dropped his left hand from the handle, losing strength and causing Baekhyun to push his own blade closer to his neck, but at least holding a hand out helped him steady himself.

 

Chanyeol snorted, observing Baekhyun’s frown, the bead of sweat running down the bridge of his nose.

 

"I’m not taking you with me, Your Enchantment," he said, pleased when Baekhyun twisted his features. He wasn’t sure whether it was because Chanyeol hadn’t called him by his name contrary to what Baekhyun had requested of him or if it was because of his renewed refusal to take him out of the Kingdom, but he enjoyed the reaction nonetheless.

 

The blade was closer to Chanyeol’s neck now, if he pushed harder Baekhyun might pull back and cause him to lose balance and fall down which would render him at his mercy. If he didn’t push back harder, it wouldn’t take long for the blade to touch his neck and announce his defeat.

 

"Oh, I’m leaving with or without you, Chan," Baekhyun hissed, already pushing harder against Chanyeol.

 

Without considering those words or his own options, Chanyeol stared into Baekhyun’s eyes, keeping his attention on him as his hand discreetly moved to his waist. He pulled his dagger out, tightening his grip on it and in a sharp movement, he lurching against Baekhyun’s throat, only stopping at the right moment for the blade to merely touch skin instead of cutting it.

 

Baekhyun’s eyes widened and he didn’t seem to have to look away from Chanyeol’s face to sense what threatened his throat.

 

"Never trust your enemy," Chanyeol chided him in mockery, alluding to the fact that Baekhyun had told him the swords would be the only weapons they’d use.

 

Baekhyun wasn’t pushing the blade of Chanyeol’s sword closer to his neck anymore, merely holding his grounds instead of increasing his strength, idle. He didn’t glower at Chanyeol, didn’t glare at him. A corner of his lips rose higher than the other when he smiled.

 

"Never underestimate your enemy," he said and before Chanyeol could properly ponder on the meaning of those words, something surged out of the floor in a loud burst.

 

He looked time just in time to see a vine growing out of the ground, between them, but his surprise froze him long enough for it to wrap around his ankles and tighten at once, pulling his feet together and shattering his balance.

 

Chanyeol fell back with a sound of surprise, back crashing on the floor only for a second crash and the clutter of swords falling on the ground to follow right away, a weight settling on his legs. He opened his eyes to see that Baekhyun had fallen on the floor face first, next to him, one of his legs on top of Chanyeol’s. He must’ve lost balance too once Chanyeol wasn’t there to support all the strength he’d been pushing forward.

 

Chanyeol raised his head to look down at his feet. Baekhyun pulled his leg away from his and at the same time, the vine retreated back into the ground. Glamour. Chanyeol had never fought against an opponent who used Glamour. He let his head back down on the floor and looked at Baekhyun who sat up and simpered at him proudly.

 

"That was good, wasn’t it?" he asked and Chanyeol snorted quietly, shaking his head and bringing a hand up to pull sweaty strands of hair away from his face.

 

It was rather good. Much better than he’d expected.

 

He stood up, dusting his clothes off before sliding his dagger back into his waistband. He cleared his throat, still a bit breathless, and turned to Baekhyun, extending a hand to him.

 

"It wasn’t bad," he said and although it was an understatement, Chanyeol didn’t feel that excited about complimenting him. He had too much pride for that.

 

Baekhyun looked down at his hand for a moment but instead of grabbing it and accepting Chanyeol’s help to stand up, he pushed himself up on his own. Chanyeol dropped his hand. He supposed he deserved that for having done the same thing to him yesterawakening.

 

"I assume you trust me enough to offer me your hand now," Baekhyun said, looking up at Chanyeol as he adjusted his own clothes.

 

"I still don’t trust you," Chanyeol answered with no remorse or hesitation. Baekhyun already knew it and judging by the twitch of his lips into a quick smile, he didn’t feel bothered by it that much. "But as you saw, I have a dagger on me. I could take you down if needed," he shrugged. That was the sole reason why he’d offered the other his hand.

 

"Why do you not trust me though?" Baekhyun asked, no smile, no breathlessness left. Only intrigue in the way he stared at Chanyeol dead on.

 

Chanyeol didn’t need to think about it. "Our Kingdoms don’t trust each other," he replied, leaning down to grab both of the swords on the floor. He didn’t assess them with ridicule anymore, they were quite entertaining weapons to fight with.

 

"But why?" Baekhyun asked again and Chanyeol sighed. He was getting tired of these why’s.

 

"That’s how things are. You’re not trustful." He handed Baekhyun the swords and watched him turn around to put them back in place on the wall. "You stabbed us in the back during the Rusted War. You betrayed us in the midst of the battle and retreated to leave us alone on the front and protect yourself."

 

Granted Rufus Aureus had been the Kingdom to negotiate a pact with the Iron King not long after their retreat, Cineureus had still lost many lives fighting on its own against an army of Ironies, creatures made of rust and iron. Adding to that the disadvantageous Treaty of Bellish to end the Great War between the two Kingdoms much before the Rusted War, Cinereus had numerous things to justify this hatred towards Rufus Aureus.

 

Baekhyun remained silent for a moment, only speaking again when he finished putting the swords back in place and turned to Chanyeol again, frowning.

 

"You mean to say you don’t trust me because of a war that happened before I was born," he stated more than questioned, huffing an empty laugh afterwards. "I don’t even remember _when_ I was born. That’s how long has passed since that war."

 

Chanyeol hadn’t been born back then either, he hadn’t lived through either of these wars but that didn’t change the facts.

 

"You wouldn’t be able to measure it even if you knew when you were born. That is exactly why how long it’s been since then doesn’t matter," he argued, tone lacking hostility but not assurance.

 

"I could measure it through the human concept of time, I studied that a little," Baekhyun shrugged, pursing his lips. "Did you know that they eat cake on every anniversary of their birth? How curious to limit themselves to one cake per human year when they could eat it every Awakening. Or day."

 

Chanyeol parted his lips to correct him, tell him that some Humans ate cake much more often than that, before realizing what he was doing and frowning.

 

"Stop trying to hold conversations with me," he accused the other in a grumble.

 

He wasn’t supposed to talk to Baekhyun, he wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone but the Queen in his quest to convince her to get help to Cinereus.

 

Baekhyun widened his eyes in a theatrical expression of outrage. "I’m not tying you down and forcing you to talk to me. You’re talking to me on your own!" He smiled then, wide, merry as he stepped closer to Chanyeol. "That means we _can_ talk. This wariness between us is not necessary. Whatever happened before, it should be left behind. Things can change. The relationship between our Kingdoms can evolve for the better."

 

This optimism was starting to trample all over Chanyeol’s nerves. Not unlike the fact that the more he talked to this prince, the less nonsensical he was starting to sound. He wasn’t wrong per se, everything would be much easier without this discord between all three Kingdoms of Reveries. 

 

But that did not change the way things were, or the fact that Chanyeol didn’t think things needed to change.

 

"No, traditions and consequences don’t change," he said, harshly enough to chop Baekhyun’s smile into crumbles. "Facts don’t change. Our Kingdoms will never trust yours, just like yours won’t ever trust ours. Just like both Cinereus and Rufus Aureus won’t ever trust the Piceus Court. That’s the way things are, the way they should be." 

 

Despite the sourness on Baekhyun’s features being an obvious sign of his disagreement towards Chanyeol’s words, he did not pronounce a single word. Chanyeol would’ve expected him to cut him off and argue about a world of peace and love and glittery sparkles but he supposed even Baekhyun had nothing to say when it came to facts. Fact that had been carved into stone and splattered with blood thousands of Suns ago.

 

Chanyeol pressed his lips together. He wasn’t supposed to feel bad for contradicting the enemy and yet the downwards tug of Baekhyun’s mouth upset him a little. It was because he hadn’t seen him upset before and it was a strange sight, he told himself, not because he’d just dimmed Baekhyun’s brilliancy with a few words.

 

"If you’d allow me to regain my chambers," Chanyeol said, bowing his head, unwilling to spend more time here. Wasted time. He should think of a means to talk to the Queen again.

 

Without waiting for a dismissal, he turned around and headed for the door.

 

"Don’t forget to attend the Ball later. You’ll know when it starts," Baekhyun called out behind him.

 

Chanyeol raised his hand in a vague gesture of acknowledgement and got out of the practice room without looking back at him. 

 

No matter how repulsive the thought of a Rufus Aureusian Ball was, he’d attend it. It might be his second chance at convincing the Queen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As Baekhyun had warned him, there really had been no way for Chanyeol to remain unaware of the Ball’s beginning.

 

A gnome had brought a whole new set of clothing to him, much more bougie and sparkly, while Chanyeol had been resting a little more, deep inside slumber. It really was not to Chanyeol’s liking at all. A red so bright could only be horrendous to him and he already felt deeply uncomfortable wearing the clothes that had been lent to him yesterawakening. 

 

Fortunately, the gnome had brought in his own, now very much clean clothes along and Chanyeol chose to wear his own Kingdom’s black and brown shades. It would be more difficult to blend in that way but perhaps it would offend the Queen enough for her to interact with him again, albeit negatively. Moreover, when he’d asked the gnome if wearing those shocking clothes were mandatory, the creature had just scampered out of the room without a reply. He’d blame the gnome if he faced reproaches.

 

A bell had sounded as soon as Chanyeol had gotten dressed, different from the Awakening and Slumber sounds, much tinklier and joyful. He supposed that it had rung through a good part of the Kingdom, perhaps the entirety of it since when he’d gotten out of his room a while later, the hallways were already filled with all kinds of creatures.

 

Now, they were all gathered in a ballroom, so crowded and boisterous that there would’ve been not a single chance for him to ignore this event had he chosen not to attend it. The whole of Rufus Aureus, or at least a good part of its center town, Bellish, seemed to have gathered in the Castle, most of it filling the ballroom. He had no idea how that was possible. For lack of anything else to do, Chanyeol had walked around the ballroom quite a lot and the room didn’t feel that big but it had taken him three entire different songs to reach the other extremity. He supposed magic was at play, Rufus Aureusians seemed to use Glamour for anything and everything, abundantly.

 

After walking back for a bit longer, Chanyeol settled near a display of glasses filled with fuming, varicolored liquids and observed his surroundings. The music wasn’t to his liking, it wasn’t even something he had ever heard before. At first, it had been something lively, he hadn’t seen its provenance but he could tell it had been several instruments, beats and strings allied energetically to make everyone jump around joyfully. Fortunately, they’d changed it after a while and now all he could hear was the chant of mermaids, dreamy and tender, clear and soothing as it spread through the entire ballroom, swaying people here and there. He preferred the mermaids. It was much less happy.

 

Although, the change in music didn’t affect the brightness of the event at all. It couldn’t when the ballroom had been decorated in shades of red, from roses to rubies in the curtains, the tablecloth and the ribbons tied to the back of chairs. Or that had been tied to the back of chairs. There were lots of them, tables benches, seats, pushed towards the walls to let the middle of the room free for dancers, but most of them had lost their ribbons. Chanyeol had seen pixies tugging at them, unravelling them from the chairs and flying around with them tied as capes around their neck.

 

Splashes of orange were a touch here and there, on the plates and utensils, the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the gnomes going around with trays serving guests that were dressed in colorful rags or expensive outfits. Golden shades were diluted into sunny yellows, in the form of funny paper crowns on the head of children who ran around laughing, in confetti stuck or raining from the walls, in the glow emanating from lightning flowers that weren’t even a necessity since the Sun was still high up in the sky.

 

Some creatures were dancing, trolls were jumping around in circle, holding hands with a spright that didn’t match the lull of the mermaids’s chant. Centaurs clinked their glasses together, laughing loudly and moving back and forth on their hooves to the rhythm of the music. Nymphs conversed together, hiding chaste smiles behind their hands while the translucent fabric of their dresses accentuated plump forms, intimate parts hidden behind dazzling stones sawn in the fabric. All kinds of creatures filled the room, most of them dancing slowly in group or by pairs - couples, he supposed. Chanyeol observed them, unfazed by the snarls and hisses sent his way each time he was noticed. It made this quite boring party a tad more entertaining.

 

His main complaint would be his failure to find the Queen or Baekhyun but he’d thrown the blame to how gigantic this ballroom seemed to be until the moment the wide doors were thrown open and horns blew to announce the arrival of the Crown Prince, still followed by a crowd of servants, guards, and beautiful elves. Everyone turned towards him, cutting off their dancing, eating, and drinking to curtsy for the Crown Prince who welcomed the attention with a satisfied smile. Chanyeol followed, because he was already sticking out enough and he didn’t need to worsen his case with impoliteness that could be considered blasphemy. When he straightened up, his gaze followed the Crown Prince as he advanced into the ballroom.

 

He was dressed as usual, in the red and golden colors of the Kingdom, satiny robes but the only difference from the two other encounters Chanyeol had gone through with him was that he was carrying a sword on the holster around his waist. He didn’t give Chanyeol the impression of knowing how to use but after his training with Baekhyun earlier, he supposed he should refrying from judging princes on their appearance. He still had the impression that Baekhyun was probably much better than his brother and that this was more of a show of statute than a threat to anyone.

 

Except when he walked in front of Chanyeol. Then, the glare and pointy expression he gave Chanyeol, chin raised high as he looked at him from the corner of his eye without turning his head to him, it suddenly felt like it was a threat. A funny one. Chanyeol might be in bad shape but he hadn’t felt a single stab of pain since he had Awakened and he didn’t fear combat.

 

Though, he wouldn’t be able to fight the Crown Prince. Not in this event, not in this Kingdom, not when he depended on the help of the Rufus Aureusian Court. It still felt pleasant to notice, through this, that he didn’t feel as affected by sickness anymore. His body wasn’t getting used to the iron, it would never be, but it seemed like the sickness came in peaks rather than being a constant. 

 

Chanyeol followed the Crown Prince with his gaze and wondered if he’d be accused of Threat to he Crown if he were to take his glove off and accidentally touch him with his ringed hand. The burn on his skin and the horrified screeches of pain would be a delight.

 

"Stop glaring at my brother and dance with me instead."

 

Chanyeol frowned at how familiar that imperative tone became to him but when he turned to Baekhyun, he was startled out of the proper response by the radiance blasted into his eyes so strongly yet so sweetly.

 

He was dressed in golden shades that reflected creaminess on his skin, the satin of his shirt filled by his torso so faultlessly that Chanyeol could make out the sculpt of his chest, although the crystalline dust ornamenting his collarbones was more eye-catching. Through the small opening on the collar of his shirt, shaped like the tip of an arrow, Baekhyun’s collarbones looked carved, his skin so smooth it could be a hazy mirage as it glinted with twinkles as bright as the iciest lakes Chanyeol had seen back in Cinereus.

 

He was wearing another cope, this one of a sanguine red that contrasted with his skin tone with the captivation of wild berries tucked into snowbushes. It reached his mid-calves, giving his legs an illusion of thinness while the beige of his slacks was tight around the breadth of his hips. Chanyeol looked back up at his face and the pleased curve of Baekhyun’s lips was rubified, the color too strong to be natural but blending seamlessly into the effervescence of Baekhyun’s features. He tilted his head curiously and when the light hit his face properly, his lips were aurified by the glimmers on the skin. Golden dust in the sanguinity.

 

His eyes were highlighted by sparkles of the same red, all over the lid, blended into a red shadow that drew out the color of his eyes. 

 

Chanyeol looked down for a moment and huffed an unwanted laugh. He wasn’t sure why he was laughing.

 

"Why would you want to dance with me?" he asked, rushing out the first answer that was on his mind.

 

Baekhyun hummed, pursing his lips. It was distracting. There were dozens of colors and movements and sounds all around him but nothing caught his attention as much as the lone fleck of gold dotted above Baekhyun’s lips, like a mole he had never noticed before.

 

"You’re not bad-looking," Baekhyun said after a moment, eye gliding over Chanyeol’s clothes and bringing in more jest once they found their way back into Chanyeol’s gaze eyes.

 

Chanyeol laughed again, airy, soundless.

 

"You mean to say I’m handsome. You can say it," Chanyeol said, lowering his voice into a teasing edge just as he moved to lean closer to Baekhyun before stopping himself instantly. This was a Rufus Aureusian prince, not a succubus in a Pleasure House. He hadn’t visited those in so long. He turned his gaze away when Baekhyun’s smile spread in enjoyment to his response, looking at two pixies dancing in the air instead. "And from what I heard, people ask others for a dance in a  much more refined way," he added, gaze finding Baekhyun back again.

 

He had no idea how he hadn’t noticed him walking in with the Crown Prince. Chanyeol would’ve noticed him. Perhaps he had already been in the ballroom long before his brother’s arrival and Chanyeol had just failed to see him until Baekhyun sought him himself.

 

"Well," Baekhyun shrugged. "I could say would you grant me the pleasure of dancing with you but you can’t really refuse."

 

"Why?" Chanyeol snorted and he hadn’t thought about neither accepting nor refusing but now, he wished to turn the Prince down, out of spite.

 

Baekhyun gestured around him with a slow movement of the hand. "You’re the only Cinerusian in our Ball, it would be incredibly rude to refuse a dance to the Prince." He leaned closer, so insignificantly Chanyeol would’ve missed it had he not been staring at him and his smile flowering into two petals of mischief.  "Might even become a war motive, everyone’s already looking at you like they want to eat your heart out."

 

Chanyeol glanced around him, unsurprised to find that Baekhyun’s words were true. Everyone around them was already looking at him with suspicious and wariness, whispering amongst themselves or in complete judgmental silence. Three centaurs to their left had even put their glasses down. Baekhyun was a well-loved prince, Chanyeol had no doubt he’d be mobbed if he even slightly offended him.

 

"You’re quite cunning," Chanyeol noted, looking back at Baekhyun now that it was obvious he couldn’t turn him down. Oddly, he didn’t feel that bitter about it.

 

"Smart," Baekhyun corrected him, gesturing to his left. "I’m very smart."

 

Chanyeol pressed his lips together. He despised dancing. He wasn’t even sure why Baekhyun wanted to dance with him but it wasn’t difficult to assume it was nothing but an action destined to irritate Chanyeol and show him how disadvantageous it was for him to be in this land.

 

Nonetheless, he followed him away from the tables and closer to the area filled with both bouncy and calm people dancing together. Baekhyun stopped and the people around them stepped back to give them a bit more space, not stopping their slow dancing but still giving them looks that ranged between intrigued and outraged.

 

Baekhyun held his hand out to him and when Chanyeol looked down at it, unsure as to what he was supposed to do with it, Baekhyun directly grabbed Chanyeol’s hand. The ringed one. His lack of hesitation startled Chanyeol enough for him to turn immobile. Even if his iron ring was hidden underneath the glove and it was safe for him to touch it with the fabric bordering it from his skin, Baekhyun shouldn’t be so fearless about it. No one was. Not even Chanyeol.

 

Baekhyun didn’t linger on it, tugging Chanyeol to step closer and leading his hand to his shoulder, where he rested it before giving it a small pat. Chanyeol frowned at him but before he could say anything, Baekhyun grabbed his other hand, raising it to delicately hold it in the air, at a comfortable height. His other hand slid to Chanyeol’s waist and he smiled in such an obviously satisfied way, Chanyeol wished he could crush that pretty hand of his in his hold. He had never danced this way back in Cinereus, a lot of people had probably never slow danced there, so he looked down as Baekhyun started leading the dance.

 

His feet didn’t move that much, certainly not as much as they did when he fought or as much as the trolls dancing next to them, but Chanyeol was convinced that he must be using Glamour again. No matter how much he focused on moving like him, lulled, in harmony with the soothing mermaid chant, he looked and felt much stiffer than Baekhyun’s confident and skilful stance. 

 

When he looked up at him again, Baekhyun was still smiling. It only gained in width when Chanyeol frowned at him. At least, he was silent now. Chanyeol made sure not to look down at their feet again. Baekhyun didn’t look away from his face so he shouldn’t either. That, he could not lose against at least.

 

He felt out of place in Baekhyun’s arms, they were close enough for him to really have to his head down to look at him — too close. He still didn’t carry the scent of a garden but the sheen of richness in the color of his hair made it look as soft as a flower. He didn’t seem to mind having to tilt his head up. The red on his eyelids made his eyes droopy, softened them but sharpened them at the same time. He had no trouble leading the dance as they swayed together.

 

After a moment of silence, Chanyeol’s mind unraveled a little contrary to his still very much rigid body. It was calmative, just doing slight movements, sways as he stood close to someone and they held each other. Up until he felt Baekhyun’s hand moving from his waist to his back, right where he had tucked one of his daggers into the waistband of his slacks again. Baekhyun’s smile twitched when Chanyeol felt his fingers pressing the cold blade into his skin. He had faded the second dagger but had kept this one just in case. He didn’t fear Baekhyun’s reaction but he was glad when he moved his hand back to his waist with no trouble. Perhaps he had just wanted to check if the blade was still there after their training session.

 

Baekhyun’s eyelids glimmered like crushed rubies when he looked down.

 

"You fight much better than you dance," he casually noted and Chanyeol was already very much aware of that fact but it still made him scoff.

 

He _accidentally_ knocked the tip of his shoe against Baekhyun’s.

 

"Oh, Glamour, I’m such a bad dancer, forgive me," he said, words theatrically dragged.

 

Baekhyun laughed. "That’s not how we curse!"

 

Chanyeol chose to say nothing and wondered when the song would end. He looked over Baekhyun’s shoulder, eyes catching the Crown Prince leaving the room alone before Baekhyun turned them around, so abruptly Chanyeol almost tripped. He didn’t look apologetic when Chanyeol frowned at him.

 

"That’s the choreography," he justified in a tone that sounded much too innocent to be believable.

 

Chanyeol snorted and turned his head to see if any guards or servants would follow the Crown Prince out of the door but there was no one. It was curious that not only was he leaving so soon after arriving but that he was doing it alone. He looked back down at Baekhyun, pondering for a moment before letting his thoughts out.

 

"Your brother seems very eager to rule the Kingdom."

 

Not once but twice had Chanyeol witnessed him calling for decisions that were rout of his authority.

 

Baekhyun furrowed his eyebrows, surprisingly not looking upset but rather, puzzled.

 

"Every prince is eager to rule," he said, smiling at a nymph who passed by them while curtsying.

 

"You’re a prince too but you don’t act like you have the Crown and the authority to rule already," Chanyeol said once Baekhyun gave his attention back to him.

 

Baekhyun frowned with his lips. "He’s just impatient, maybe excited. And very stressed about the issues we’re facing right now, with Mother and the Iron King," he justified, although to Chanyeol, it sounded like a wonky string of excuses.

 

Their shoes thudded together again but this time, it wasn’t intentional on Chanyeol’s part. Baekhyun’s hand wasn’t much smaller than his own, his fingers were long but it felt much frailer, paler against the black of his glove. 

 

"To the point that you had to remind him twice that he wasn’t the king?" he asked, gaze flickering between Baekhyun’s eyes, tone lowered into a hush to keep anyone from hearing him.

 

Baekhyun frowned, lips parted as he looked at Chanyeol for a quiet moment, gaze flickering between his two eyes. 

 

"What are you implying?" he asked, voice just as quiet but tone rendered airier by his puzzlement.

 

Chanyeol hadn’t thought about it a lot, he’d been too busy dealing with his body’s repulse to iron but now, as he pondered about it with a clearer head, as he truly thought about it, it could make sense. The Crown Prince’s apparent sudden change of attitude. His attempts at making decisions that were beyond the limits of his powers. The abruptness of the Queen’s illness. The burnt skin he had seen on the Queen’s body, not dissimilar to the burn given to Chanyeol’s own body by the iron.

 

"When did your mother fall ill, Your Enchantment?"

 

Baekhyun let out a hum, looking down momentarily and shaking his head. "Soon after the new Iron King was announced." 

 

They were still swaying to the melody permeating through the ballroom but Baekhyun looked more agitated, they were barely even moving anymore.

 

"Did the Crown Prince always act so impulsively and aggressively?" he questioned, although Baekhyun had already assured him that it wasn’t the case before.

 

"No," he said, still staring at Chanyeol. He could look as hard as he want, Chanyeol had been trained not to let his thoughts seep into his face. "Only since Mother fell sick. He’s very worried and her sickness is a pressure to him—"

 

"Or maybe he’s just so eager to take the Crown that he’s upset things are advancing too slowly," Chanyeol cut him off, words slicing right through another stream of excuses.

 

Baekhyun stopped moving altogether, features gathering into sudden anger.

 

"What are you—"

 

This time, it wasn’t Chanyeol who interrupted him but a crash emanating from the entrance. Everyone was startled into immobility and Chanyeol turned to look at the wide hole pierced through the door with confusion. Something was thrown into the room through the hole, an ochre object that clashed on the ground, a strange shape with four wheels at the bottom and a grey stick planted on top. Chanyeol recognized it instantly. A toy car from the Human Realm, one of the very old models. Iron.

 

It suddenly emitted a high whizz that sounded boisterous in the silence of the ballroom but that was soon overpowers by a bigger crash. The toy car rolled forward just in time to avoid colliding with the doors when they were thrown open. 

 

On the other side of the threshold, stood a crowd of grey, moldy green, and dark, soiled ash grey. Rigid limbs, tall bodies, crooked and squeaky when the creature at the head of the crowd took a step forward, raised its rounded, fingerless hand in a robotically slow movement, and pressed it against the vine hanging from the ceiling, on his left. The plant shriveled and darkened, crumbling into ashes at the first contact. Another step forward. 

 

Ironies.

 

The mermaids’ chant sharpened into strident wails as the creatures made of iron streamed inside and chaos erupted all around.

 

 

 


End file.
